J-A-MITCHELL 


GIFT   OF 

MICHAEL  REESE 


AMOS     JCDD 


AMOS    JUDD 


BY 


J.    A.    MITCHELL 


ILLUSTRATED    BY    A.    J.    KELLER 


NEW     YORK 

CHARLES     SCRIBNER'S     SONS 
1901 

Copyright,  1895,  1901,  by  Charles  Scnbner's  Sons 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FROM  DRAWINGS  IN  COLOR  BY  A.  I.  KELLER 

I 

Fignette  Title-Page 

"How  much  do  they  represent, 

the  whole  lot"  Facing  page     18 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I —  /  was  startled"  48 

It  seemed  a  long  Jive  minutes  136 

Gently  rocking  with  both  feet  on  the  ground        168 

"I  thank  you,  Bull,  for  chasing  me  into  Molly 
Cabot's  heart"  1S2 

"  He  is  the  image  of  you"  206 

"  The  end  has  come,  my  Moll"  250 


284494 


AMOS     JUDD 

I 

A  the  station  of  Bingham  Cross  Roads 
four  passengers   got  off  the   train. 
One,  a  woman  with  bundles,  who 
was  evidently  familiar  with  her  surroundings, 
walked  rapidly  away  through  the  hot  Septem 
ber  sunshine  toward   the   little  village  in  the 
distance. 

The  other  three  stood  on  the  platform  and 
looked  about,  as  if  taking  their  bearings.  They 
were  foreigners  of  an  unfamiliar  species.  Their 
fellow-passengers  in  the  car  had  discussed 
them  with  an  interest  not  entirely  free  from 
suspicion,  and  their  finally  getting  out  at  such 
an  unimportant  station  as  Bingham  Cross 
Roads  caused  a  surprise  which,  although  rea 
sonably  under  control,  was  still  too  strong  for 
concealment.  From  the  windows  of  the  car  at 


AMOS     JUDD 

least  a  dozen  pairs  of  eyes  were  watching 
them.  The  two  men  and  the  little  boy  who 
composed  this  group  were  of  dark  complexion, 
with  clean-cut^  regular  features.  The  oldest,  a 
man  of  sixty  years  or  more,  had  a  military 
bearing,  and  was,  if  one  could  judge  from  ap 
pearances,  a  person  of  authority  in  his  own 
country,  wherever  that  might  be.  Although 
the  younger  man  seemed  to  resemble  him,  it 
was  in  such  a  general  way  that  he  might  be 
either  his  son  or  no  relation  whatever. 

But  the  little  boy  had  excited  a  yet  greater 
interest  than  his  companions.  Although  but  six 
or  seven  years  old,  he  comported  himself  with 
as  much  dignity  and  reserve  as  the  gentleman 
with  the  silver  hair.  This  gave  the  impression, 
and  without  apparent  intention  on  his  part, 
that  he  also  was  an  important  personage.  His 
dark  eyes  were  strikingly  beautiful  and,  like 
those  of  his  seniors,  were  distinctly  foreign  in 
design. 

[2] 


AMOS     JUDD 

When  the  train  moved  away  the  three  trav 
ellers  approached  the  man  with  one  suspender, 
who  filled  the  position  of  station  agent,  bag 
gage-master,  switchman,  telegraph  operator 
and  freight  clerk,  and  inquired  if  there  was 
a  conveyance  to  the  village  of  Daleford.  He 
pointed  to  a  wagon  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
platform;  that  was  the  Daleford  stage.  In  an 
swer  to  further  questions  they  learned  that  the 
next  train  back  again,  toward  New  York,  left 
at  six  thirty;  that  Daleford  was  seven  miles 
away;  that  they  could  spend  an  hour  in  that 
village  and  catch  the  train  without  hurrying. 

The  only  baggage  on  the  platform  consisted 
of  two  peculiar-looking  trunks,  or  rather  boxes, 
which  the  multifarious  official  knew  to  be 
theirs,  as  no  similar  articles  had  ever  been 
manufactured  in  America.  They  were  covered 
with  designs  laid  on  in  metal,  all  elaborately 
engraved,  and  it  was  not  suspected  along  the 
route  that  these  profuse  and  tarnished  or- 
[3] 


AMOS     JUDD 

naments  were  of  solid  silver.  This  luggage 
was  strapped  behind  the  stage,  two  vener 
able  horses  were  awakened  and  the  travellers 
started  off.  Joe,  the  driver,  a  youth  with  large 
ears  and  a  long  neck,  soon  gave  his  passengers 
some  excellent  opportunities  to  explain  them 
selves,  which  they  neglected.  Aside  from  a 
few  simple  questions  about  Daleford  and  Mr. 
Josiah  Judd,  to  whose  house  they  were  going, 
the  conversation  was  in  a  language  of  which  he 
had  no  knowledge.  The  first  two  miles  of  their 
route  lay  along  the  Connecticut  valley,  after 
which  they  climbed  to  higher  ground.  The  boy 
seemed  interested  in  the  size  of  the  elms,  the 
smell  of  the  tobacco  fields,  the  wild  grapes, 
and  the  various  things  that  any  boy  might 
notice  who  had  never  seen  their  like  before. 
The  day  was  warm,  and  the  road  dusty,  and 
when  they  entered  Daleford  the  boy,  with  the 
old  gentleman's  arm  about  him,  had  been 
asleep  for  several  miles.  Coming  into  the  vil- 

[*] 


AMOS     JUDD 

lage  at  one  end,  they  drove  down  the  main 
street,  beneath  double  rows  of  elms  that  met 
above  their  heads  in  lofty  arches,  the  wide 
common  on  their  right.  The  strangers  ex 
pressed  their  admiration  at  the  size  and  beauty 
of  these  trees.  Moreover  the  cool  shade  wras 
restful  and  refreshing.  No  signs  of  human  life 
were  visible  either  in  the  street  or  about  the 
white  houses  that  faced  the  common,  and  this 
with  the  unbroken  silence  gave  an  impression 
that  the  inhabitants,  if  they  existed,  were 
either  absent  or  asleep. 

The  driver  stopped  for  a  moment  at  the 
post-office  which  occupied  a  corner  in  the  only 
store,  and  gave  the  mail-bag  to  the  post-mis 
tress,  a  pale  young  woman  with  eye-glasses 
and  a  wealth  of  artificial  hair ;  then,  after  rum 
bling  through  the  village  for  half  a  mile,  they 
found  themselves  again  in  the  country. 

The  last  house  on  the  right,  with  its  mas 
sive  portico  of  Doric  columns,  seemingly  of 
[5] 


AMOS     J  UDD 

white  marble,  had  the  appearance  of  a  Gre 
cian  temple.  But  these  appearances  were  de 
ceptive,  the  building  being  a  private  residence 
and  the  material  of  native  pine. 

As  they  approached  this  mendacious  exte 
rior  the  little  boy  said  something  in  the  for 
eign  language  to  his  companions,  whereupon 
they  told  the  driver  to  stop  at  the  door,  as 
Mr.  Judd  was  inside. 

"That  ain't  Mr.  Judd's  house,"  he  answered. 
"His  is  nearly  a  mile  farther  on,  around  that 
hill,"  and  he  gave  the  horses  a  gentle  blow  to 
emphasize  the  information.  But  the  boy  re 
peated  his  statement,  whatever  it  was,  and 
the  younger  man  said,  with  some  decision: 

"Mr.  Judd  is  inside.  Stop  here." 

As  the  driver  drew  up  before  the  house  he 
remarked,  with  a  sarcastic  smile: 

"If  Mr.  Judd  lives  here,  he's  moved  in 
since  mornin'." 

But  the  remark  made  no  visible  impression. 
[6] 


AMOS     JUDD 

They  all  got  out,  and  while  the  two  men  ap 
proached  the  front  door  by  an  old-fashioned 
brick  walk,  the  boy  strolled  leisurely  through 
the  grassy  yard  beside  the  house.  The  driver 
was  speculating  within  himself  as  to  what 
kind  of  a  pig-headed  notion  made  them  per 
sist  in  stopping  at  Deacon  Barlow's,  when,  to 
his  surprise,  Mr.  Judd  emerged  from  a  door 
way  at  the  side  and  advanced  writh  long  strides 
toward  the  diminutive  figure  in  his  path. 

Mr.  Judd  was  a  man  about  sixty  years  of 
age,  tall,  thin  and  high-shouldered.  His  long, 
bony  face  bore  no  suggestions  of  beauty,  but 
there  was  honesty  in  every  line.  The  black 
clothes  which  hung  loosely  upon  his  figure 
made  him  seem  even  taller  and  thinner  than 
he  really  was.  The  boy  looked  him  pleasantly 
in  the  face  and,  when  he  had  approached  suffi 
ciently  near,  said,  in  a  clear,  childish  voice, 
slowly  and  with  laborious  precision: 

"Josiah  Judd,  the  General  Subahdar  Divo- 
[7] 


AMOS     JUDD 

das  Gadi  and  the  Prince  Rajanya  Kasim  Mir 
Dewan  Musnud  desire  to  speak  with  you." 

Mr.  Judd  stopped  short,  the  bushy  eye 
brows  rising  high  in  astonishment.  His  mouth 
opened^  but  no  sound  came  forth.  The  foreign 
appearance  of  the  speaker,  his  familiar  manner 
of  addressing  one  so  much  older  than  him 
self,  together  with  a  demeanor  that  showed 
no  signs  of  disrespect,  and  above  all,  his  allu 
sion  to  the  presence  of  titled  strangers  caused 
the  American  to  suspect,  for  a  few  seconds, 
that  he  was  the  victim  of  some  mental  irregu 
larity.  He  pushed  the  straw  hat  from  his  fore 
head,  and  looked  more  carefully.  The  youth 
ful  stranger  observed  this  bewilderment,  and 
he  was  evidently  surprised  that  such  a  simple 
statement  should  be  received  in  so  peculiar  a 
manner.  But  Mr.  Judd  recovered  his  compo 
sure,  lowered  the  bushy  eyebrows,  and  draw 
ing  his  hand  across  his  mouth  as  if  to  get  it 
into  shape  again,  asked: 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Who  did  you  say  wanted  to  see  me, 
sonny?" 

A  small  hand  was  ceremoniously  waved 
toward  the  two  strangers  who  were  now 
approaching  along  the  Doric  portico.  Com 
ing  up  to  Mr.  Judd  they  saluted  him  with  a 
stately  deference  that  was  seldom  witnessed 
in  Daleford,  and  the  General  handed  him 
a  letter,  asking  if  he  were  not  Mr.  Josiah 
Judd. 

"Yes,  sir,  that's  my  name,"  and  as  he  took 
the  letter,  returned  their  salutations  politely, 
but  in  a  lesser  degree.  He  was  not  yet  sure 
that  the  scene  was  a  real  one.  The  letter, 
however,  was  not  only  real,  but  he  recognized 
at  once  the  handwriting  of  his  brother  Mor 
ton,  who  had  been  in  India  the  last  dozen 
years.  Morton  Judd  was  a  successful  merchant 
and  had  enjoyed  for  some  years  considerable 
financial  and  political  importance  in  a  certain 
portion  of  that  country. 
[9] 


AMOS     JUDD 

DEAR  JOSIAH  :  This  letter  will  be  handed 
you  by  two  trustworthy  gentlemen 
whose  names  it  is  safer  not  to  write.  They 
will  explain  all  you  wish  to  know  regarding 
the  boy  they  leave  in  your  charge.  Please  take 
care  of  this  boy  at  least  for  a  time  and  treat 
him  as  your  own  son.  I  am  writing  this  at 
short  notice  and  in  great  haste.  You  have 
probably  read  of  the  revolution  here  that  has 
upset  everything.  This  boy's  life,  together  with 
the  lives  of  many  others,  depends  upon  the 
secrecy  with  which  we  keep  the  knowledge  of 
his  whereabouts  from  those  now  in  power. 

Will  write  you  more  fully  of  all  this  in  a 
few  days.  Give  my  love  to  Sarah,  and  I  hope 
you  are  all  well.  Hannah  and  I  are  in  excel 
lent  health.  Your  affectionate  brother, 

MORTON  JUDD. 

P.  S.  You  might  give  out  that  the  boy  is 
an  adopted  child  of  mine  and  call  him  Amos 
Judd,  after  father. 

[10] 


AMOS     JUDD 

These  words  threw  a  needed  light  on  the 
situation.  He  shook  hands  writh  the  two  visi 
tors  and  greeted  them  cordially,  then,,  ap 
proaching  the  boy  who  was  absorbed  in  the 
movements  of  some  turkeys  that  were  stroll 
ing  about  the  yard,  he  bent  over  and  held  out 
his  hand,  saying,  with  a  pleasant  smile: 

e(  And  you,  sir,  are  very  welcome.  I  think  we 
can  take  good  care  of  you." 

But  the  child  looked  inquiringly  from  the 
hand  up  to  its  owner's  face. 

"Mr.  Judd  wishes  to  take  your  hand,"  said 
the  General,  then  adding,  by  way  of  explana 
tion,  "  He  never  shook  hands  before.  But  these 
customs  he  will  soon  acquire."  The  small  hand 
was  laid  in  the  large  one  and  moved  up  and 
down  after  the  manner  of  the  country. 

"Don't  they  shake  hands  in  India?"  asked 
Mr.  Judd,  as  if  it  were  something  of  a  joke. 
"  How  do  you  let  another  man  know  you  're 
glad  to  see  him?" 

[H  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Oh,  yes,  we  shake  hands  sometimes.  The 
English  taught  us  that.  But  it  is  not  usual  with 
persons  of  his  rank.  It  will  be  easily  learned, 
however." 

After  a  word  or  two  more  they  took  their 
seats  in  the  wagon,  the  boy  at  his  own  request 
getting  in  front  with  the  driver.  They  soon 
came  in  sight  of  the  Judd  residence,  a  large, 
white,  square,  New  England  farmhouse  of  the 
best  type,  standing  on  rising  ground  several 
hundred  feet  from  the  road,  at  the  end  of  a 
long  avenue  of  maples.  Clustered  about  it  were 
some  magnificent  elms.  As  they  entered  the 
avenue  the  driver,  whose  curiosity  could  be 
restrained  no  longer,  turned  and  said  to  the 
boy: 

"Did  you  ever  see  Mr.  Judd  before?" 

"No." 

"Then  how  did  you  know  'twas  him?" 

"By  his  face." 

He  looked  down  with  a  sharp  glance,  but  the 


AMOS     JUDD 

boy's  expression  was  serious,  even  melancholy. 

"Ever  been  in  this  town  before?" 

"No." 

"Did  Mr.  Judd  know  you  was  comin'?" 

"No." 

"Then  what  in  thunder  made  you  s'pose  he 
was  in  Deacon  Barlow's?" 

"In  thunder?" 

"What  made  you  think  he  was  in  that 
house?" 

The  boy  looked  off  over  the  landscape  and 
hesitated  before  answering. 

"I  knew  he  was  to  be  there." 

"Oh,  then  he  expected  you?" 

"No." 

Joe  laughed.  "That's  sort  of  mixed,  ain't  it? 
Mr.  Judd  was  there  to  meet  you  when  he 
didn't  know  you  were  comin'.  Kinder  met  you 
by  appointment  when  there  was  n't  any."  This 
was  said  in  a  sarcastic  manner,  and  he  added: 

"You  was  pretty  sot  on  stoppin'  and  I  'd  like 
[13] 


AMOS     JUDD 

to  know  how  you  come  to  be  so  pop  sure  he 
was  inside." 

The  dark  eyes  looked  up  at  him  in  gentle 
astonishment.  This  gave  way  to  a  gleam  of 
anger,  as  they  detected  a  mocking  expression, 
and  the  lips  parted  as  if  to  speak.  But  there 
seemed  to  be  a  change  of  mind,,  for  he  said 
nothing,  looking  away  toward  the  distant  hills 
in  contemptuous  silence.  The  driver,  as  a  free 
and  independent  American,  was  irritated  by 
this  attempted  superiority  in  a  foreigner,  and 
especially  in  such  a  young  one,  but  there  was 
no  time  to  retaliate. 

Mrs.  Judd,  a  large,  sandy-haired,  strong- 
featured  woman,  gave  the  guests  a  cordial  wel 
come.  The  outlandish  trunks  found  their  way 
up  stairs,  instructions  were  given  the  driver  to 
call  in  an  hour,  and  Mrs.  Judd,  with  the  ser 
vant,  hastened  preparations  for  a  dinner,  as 
the  travellers,  she  learned,  had  eaten  nothing 
since  early  morning. 

[   I*] 


AMOS     JUDD 

When  these  were  going  on  Mr.  Judd  and 
the  three  guests  went  into  the  parlor,,  which,, 
like  many  others  in  New  England,  was  a  tri 
umph  of  severity.  Although  fanatically  clean, 
it  possessed  the  usual  stuffy  smell  that  is  in 
evitable  where  fresh  air  and  sunlight  are  ha 
bitually  excluded.  There  were  four  windows, 
none  of  which  were  open.  All  the  blinds  were 
closed.  In  this  dim  light,  some  hair  ornaments, 
wax  flowers,  a  marriage  certificate  and  a  few 
family  photographs  of  assiduous  and  unrelent 
ing  aspect  seemed  waiting,  in  hostile  patience, 
until  the  next  funeral  or  other  congenial  cere 
mony  should  disturb  their  sepulchral  peace. 
While  the  men  seated  themselves  about  the 
table,  the  boy  climbed  upon  a  long  horse-hair 
sofa,  whence  he  regarded  them  with  a  bored 
but  dignified  patience.  The  General,  before 
seating  himself,  had  taken  from  his  \vaist  an 
old-fashioned  money-belt,  which  he  laid  upon 
the  table.  From  this  he  extracted  a  surprising 


AMOS     JUDD 

number  of  gold  and  silver  coins  and  arranged 
them  in  little  stacks.  Mr.  Judd's  curiosity  was 
further  increased  when  he  took  from  other 
portions  of  the  belt  a  number  of  English  bank 
notes,  which  he  smoothed  out  and  also  laid 
before  his  host. 

"There  are  twelve  thousand  pounds  in  these 
notes/'  he  said,  "and  about  two  thousand  in 
sovereigns,  with  a  few  hundred  in  American 
money." 

"Fourteen  thousand  pounds/'  said  Mr.  Judd, 
making  a  rough  calculation,  "that 's  about  sev 
enty  thousand  dollars." 

The  General  nodded  toward  the  boy.  "It 
belongs  to  him.  Your  brother,  Mr.  Morton 
Judd,  perhaps  told  you  we  left  in  great  haste, 
and  this  is  all  of  the  available  property  we 
had  time  to  convert  into  money.  The  rest  will 
be  sent  you  later.  That  is,  whatever  we  can 
secure  of  it." 

Now  Mr.  Judd  had  never  been  fond  of  re- 
[  16] 


AMOS     JUDD 

sponsibility.  It  was  in  fact  his  chief  reason 
for  remaining  on  the  farm  while  his  younger 
brother  went  out  into  the  world  for  larger 
game.  Moreover,,  seventy  thousand  dollars,  to 
one  brought  up  as  he  had  been,,  seemed  an 
absurdly  large  amount  of  money  to  feed  and 
clothe  a  single  boy. 

"But  what  am  I  to  do  with  it?  Save  it  up 
and  give  him  the  interest?" 

"Yes,  or  whatever  you  and  Mr.  Morton 
Judd  may  decide  upon." 

While  Mr.  Judd  was  drawing  his  hand  across 
his  forehead  to  smooth  out  the  wrinkles  he 
felt  were  coming,,  the  General  brought  forth 
from  an  inner  pocket  a  small  silk  bag.  Unty 
ing  the  cord  he  carefully  emptied  upon  the 
table  a  handful  of  precious  stones.  Mr.  Judd 
was  no  expert  in  such  things,  but  they  were 
certainly  very  pretty  to  look  at  and.,  moreover, 
they  seemed  very  large. 

" These,"  continued  the  General,  "are  of 
[  I?] 


AMOS     JUDD 

considerable    value,    the    rubies    particularly, 
which,  as  you  will  see,  are  of  unusual  size." 

He  spoke  with  enthusiasm,  and  held  up  one 
or  two  of  them  to  the  light.  Mr.  Judd  sadly 
acknowledged  that  they  were  very  handsome, 
and  threw  a  hostile  glance  at  the  gleaming, 
many-colored,  fiery-eyed  mass  before  him. 
"How  much  do  they  represent,  the  whole 
lot?" 

The  General  looked  inquiringly  at  his  com 
panion.  The  Prince  shook  his  head.  "It  is 
impossible  to  say,  but  we  can  give  a  rough 
estimate." 

Then  taking  them  one  by  one,  rubies,  dia 
monds,  emeralds,  pearls,  and  sapphires,  they 
made  a  list,  putting  the  value  of  each  in  the 
currency  of  their  own  country,  and  figured  up 
the  total  amount  in  English  pounds. 

"As  near  as  it  is  possible  to  estimate,"  said 
the  Prince,  "their  value  is  about  one  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand  pounds." 
[18] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"One  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  pounds!" 
exclaimed  Mr.  Judd.  "Eight  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars!"  and  with  a  frown  he  pushed  his 
chair  from  the  table.  The  General  misunder 
stood  the  movement,  and  said:  "But,  sir,  there 
are  few  finer  jewels  in  India,  or  even  in  the 
world!" 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Judd.  "I'm 
not  doubting  their  worth.  It's  only  kind  of 
sudden,"  and  he  drew  his  hands  across  his 
eyes,  as  if  to  shut  out  the  dazzling  mass  that 
flashed  balefully  up  at  him  from  the  table. 
For  a  New  England  farmer,  Josiah  Judd  was 
a  prosperous  man.  In  fact  he  was  the  richest 
man  in  Daleford.  But  if  all  his  earthly  posses 
sions  were  converted  into  cash  they  would 
never  realize  a  tenth  part  of  the  unwelcome 
treasure  that  now  lay  before  him.  He  was, 
therefore,  somewhat  startled  at  being  deluged, 
as  it  were,  out  of  a  clear  sky,  with  the  respon 
sibility  of  nearly  a  million  dollars.  The  guests 
[  19  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

also  mentioned   some   pearls  of  extraordinary 
value  in  one  of  the  trunks. 

"Well/'  he  said,,  with  an  air  of  resignation, 
"I  s'pose  there's  no  dodgin'  it,  and  I'll  have 
to  do  the  best  I  can  till  I  hear  from  Morton. 
After  the  boy  goes  back  to  India  of  course  I 
sha'n't  have  the  care  of  it." 

The  General  glanced  toward  the  sofa  to  be 
sure  he  was  not  overheard,  then  answered,  in 
a  low  voice:  "It  will  be  better  for  him  and 
will  save  the  shedding  of  blood  if  he  never 
returns." 

But  the  boy  heard  nothing  in  that  room. 
He  was  slumbering  peacefully,  with  his  head 
against  the  high  back  of  the  sofa,  and  his 
spirit,  if  one  could  judge  from  the  smile 
upon  his  lips,  was  once  more  in  his  own  land, 
among  his  own  people.  Perhaps  playing  with 
another  little  boy  in  an  Oriental  garden,  a 
garden  of  fountains  and  gorgeous  flowers,  of 
queer-shaped  plants  with  heavy  foliage,  a 
[20] 


AMOS     JUDD 

quiet,  dreamy  garden,  where  the  white  walls 
of  the  palace  beside  it  were  supported  by  in 
numerable  columns,  with  elephants'  heads  for 
capitals:  where,,  below  a  marble  terrace,  the 
broad  Ganges  shimmered  beneath  a  golden 
sun. 

Maybe  the  drowsy  air  of  this  ancestral  gar 
den  with  its  perfume  of  familiar  flowers  made 
his  sleep  more  heavy,  or  was  it  the  thrum  of 
gentle  fingers  upon  a  mandolin  in  a  distant 
corner  of  the  garden,  mingling  with  a  woman's 
voice  ? 

Whatever  the  cause,  it  produced  a  shock, 
this  being  summoned  back  to  America,  to 
exile,  and  to  the  hair-cloth  sofa  by  the  voice 
of  Mrs.  Judd  announcing  dinner;  for  the  step 
was  long  and  the  change  was  sudden  from  the 
princely  pleasure  garden  to  the  Puritan  parlor, 
and  every  nerve  and  fibre  of  his  Oriental  heart 
revolted  at  the  outrage.  There  was  a  war-like 
gleam  in  the  melancholy  eyes  as  he  joined 
[  21  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

the  little  procession  that  moved  toward  the 
dining-room.  As  they  sat  at  table,  the  three 
guests  with  Mrs.  Judd,  who  poured  the  tea, 
he  frowned  with  hostile  eyes  upon  the  steak, 
the  boiled  potatoes,  the  large  wedge-shaped 
piece  of  yellow  cheese,  the  pickles,  and  the 
apple-pie.  He  was  empty  and  very  hungry,  but 
he  did  not  eat.  He  ignored  the  example  of 
the  General  and  the  Prince,  who  drank  the 
strong,  green  tea,  and  swallowed  the  saleratus 
biscuits  as  if  their  hearts'  desires  at  last  were 
gratified.  He  scowled  upon  Mrs.  Judd  when 
she  tried  to  learn  what  he  disliked  the  least. 
But  her  husband,  swaying  to  and  fro  in  a  rock 
ing-chair  near  the  window,  had  no  perception 
of  the  gathering  cloud,  and  persisted  in  ques 
tioning  his  visitors  in  regard  to  India,  the  cus 
toms  of  the  people,  and  finally  of  their  own 
home  life.  Mrs.  Judd  had  noticed  the  black 
eyebrows  and  restless  lips  were  becoming  more 
threatening  as  the  many  questions  were  an- 
[22] 


AMOS     JUDD 

swered ;  that  the  two-pronged  fork  of  horn  and 
steel  was  used  solely  as  an  offensive  weapon  to 
stab  his  potatoes  and  his  pie. 

At  last  the  tempest  came.  The  glass  of 
water  he  had  raised  with  a  trembling  hand  to 
his  lips  was  hurled  upon  the  platter  of  steak, 
and  smashed  into  a  dozen  pieces.  With  a  swift 
movement  of  his  arms,  as  if  to  clear  the  deck, 
he  pushed  the  pickles  among  the  potatoes  and 
swept  his  pie  upon  the  floor.  Then,  after  a 
futile  effort  to  push  his  chair  from  the  table, 
he  swung  his  legs  about  and  let  himself  down 
from  the  side.  With  a  face  flushed  with  pas 
sion,  he  spoke  rapidly  in  a  language  of  wrhich 
no  word  was  familiar  to  his  host  or  hostess, 
and  ended  by  pointing  dramatically  at  Mr. 
Judd,  the  little  brown  finger  quivering  with 
uncontrollable  fury.  It  appeared  to  the  aston 
ished  occupant  of  the  rocking-chair  that  the 
curse  of  Allah  was  being  hurled  upon  the 
house  of  Judd.  Standing  for  a  moment  in  si- 
[23] 


AMOS     JUDD 

lence  and  glowering  upon  them  all  in  turn, 
the  boy  swung  about  with  a  defiant  gesture, 
stalked  through  the  open  door  and  out  of  the 
house. 

Josiah  Judd,  whose  heart  was  already  sink 
ing  under  the  responsibility  of  the  crown 
jewels  of  a  kingdom,  experienced  a  sickening 
collapse  in  the  presence  of  the  Oriental  thun 
derbolt  that  had  just  exploded  on  his  peaceful 
New  England  hearthstone.  His  jaw  fell,  he 
ceased  rocking,  and  turned  his  eyes  in  painful 
inquiry  upon  his  guests. 

There  was  an  awkward  silence.  The  General 
and  the  Prince  had  risen  to  their  feet  as  if  in 
apology  to  the  hostess,  but  she  had  accepted 
the  outburst  with  unruffled  calmness.  Her 
kind,  restful,  homely  face  showed  no  annoy 
ance.  Rising  quietly  from  the  table  she  fol 
lowed  the  stormy  guest  and  found  him  around 
in  front  of  the  house,  sitting  upon  the  granite 
door-step,  his  chin  in  his  hands,  frowning 
[24] 


AMOS     JUDD 

fiercely  upon  the  quaint  old  flower-garden  be 
fore  him.  He  got  up  as  she  approached  and 
stood  a  few  feet  away,  regarding  her  with  a 
hostile  scowl.  Seating  herself  upon  the  step 
she  said,  with  a  pleasant  smile: 

"Of  course  you  are  tired,  sonny,  we  all 
understand  that,  and  you  are  unhappy  to-day, 
but  it  won't  be  for  long." 

These  assuring  words  failed  of  their  purpose, 
and  he  eyed  her  sidewise,  and  with  suspicion. 
He  was  too  old  a  bird  to  be  fooled  so  easily. 
A  few  sprigs  were  torn  from  the  box  border 
within  his  reach  as  if  the  conversation  bored 
him. 

"I  had  a  boy  once,"  continued  Mrs.  Judd. 
"I  understand  boys,  and  know  just  how  you 
feel.  We  shall  be  good  friends,  I'm  sure." 

After  a  pause  devoted  to  serious  reflection, 
he  inquired: 

"Did  your  boy  like  you?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

[25] 


AMOS     JUDD 

He  came  nearer  and  stood  in  front  of  her. 
Then,  slowly  and  with  the  precision  with 
which  he  always  delivered  himself  when 
speaking  English,  he  said: 

"My  mother  was  different  from  you,  and 
her  clothes  were  more  beautiful,  but  if  one 
boy  liked  you  another  might.  I  might.  Would 
you  like  to  see  my  mother's  portrait?" 

Mrs.  Judd  said  she  would  like  very  much 
to  see  it,  and  he  began  fumbling  about  and 
seemed  to  be  tickling  himself  near  the  buckle 
of  his  belt.  But,  as  it  proved,  he  was  ascer 
taining  the  whereabouts  of  a  locket,  which 
he  finally  fished  up  by  means  of  a  gold  chain 
about  his  neck.  The  chain  was  of  such  a 
length  that  the  locket,  instead  of  reposing 
near  the  heart  of  the  wearer,  hung  a  little 
below  the  centre  of  the  stomach.  When  it 
finally  emerged  above  his  collar,  he  placed 
the  warm  miniature  in  her  hand,  saying: 

"That  is  my  mother." 
[26] 


AMOS     JUDD 

It  was  a  dark  face,,  surmounted  by  a  jew 
elled  head-dress  of  a  style  that  Mrs.  Judd 
had  never  seen,  even  in  pictures.  After  look 
ing  more  carefully  at  the  miniature  and  then 
up  into  the  eyes  that  were  watching  hers,  she 
found  the  same  square  forehead  and  sensitive 
mouth,  and  the  same  dark  melancholy,  heavily 
fringed  eyes,  by  far  the  most  beautiful  she 
had  ever  seen.  The  picture  in  her  hand  was 
a  truthful  portrait  of  himself.  As  she  looked 
from  the  portrait  into  the  face  before  her  she 
felt  it  was  perhaps  fortunate  this  mother  was 
ignorant  of  the  changes  that  already  had 
turned  the  current  of  his  life.  With  a  brown 
hand  on  each  of  her  knees  he  wras  looking 
into  her  eyes  writh  the  anxious  gaze  of  a  hun 
gry  soul,  seeking  for  sympathy,  and  too  proud 
to  ask  it.  But  Mrs.  Judd  understood.  She  laid 
a  hand  upon  his  shoulder  with  an  expression 
upon  her  honest  face  that  rendered  words  un 
necessary/  He  blinked  and  swallowed  in  a 
[  27  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

mighty  effort  to  suppress  what  he  evidently 
considered  an  undignified  and  compromising 
sentiment.  But  in  vain.  Sinking  upon  his 
knees  he  buried  his  face  in  her  lap  and  gave 
way  to  the  most  vehement,  uncontrollable 
grief.  The  small  frame  shook  with  sobs,  while 
her  apron  grew  wet  with  tears.  He  took  his 
sorrow  with  the  same  passionate  recklessness 
that  characterized  his  anger  at  the  dinner- 
table.  Mrs.  Judd  rested  her  hand  upon  the 
short  black  hair  and  tried  to  summon  words 
of  solace  for  a  grief  that  seemed  to  threaten 
the  integrity  of  his  earthly  body.  She  could 
only  stroke  his  head  and  tell  him  not  to  be 
unhappy;  that  all  would  end  well;  that  he 
should  soon  return  home. 

In  the  midst  of  these  efforts  the  voice  of 
Mr.  Judd  came  around  the  corner  calling  out 
that  the  wagon  was  here.  The  boy  jumped  to 
his  feet  as  if  he  had  received  a  shock.  Draw 
ing  the  sleeve  of  his  jacket  across  his  tear- 
[28] 


AMOS     JUDD 

stained  face,  he  summoned  an  expression  of 
severity  and  indifference  that  under  other 
circumstances  would  have  forced  a  smile  from 
his  newly  acquired  friend.  The  soldier  was 
himself  again;  the  warrior  was  on  parade.  As 
they  walked  together  around  the  house  to  the 
dining-room,  he  beside  her  with  a  resolute 
step  and  chin  in  the  air,  she  wondered  what 
manner  of  training  could  have  taught  him  at 
the  age  of  seven  to  suppress  all  boyish  emo 
tions,  and  put  on  at  will  the  dignity  of  a  Ro 
man  Senator. 

The  General  and  the  Prince  were  awaiting 
them.  With  many  compliments  they  thanked 
the  host  and  hostess  for  their  hospitality,  and 
regretted  the  necessity  that  took  them  away 
in  such  unfortunate  haste;  it  was  a  flying  trip 
and  their  absence  must  not  be  lengthened  by 
an  hour,  as  these  were  troublous  times  in 
their  part  of  India.  As  they  moved  toward 
the  wagon  Mrs.  Judd  held  her  husband  back, 
[29] 


AMOS     JUDD 

believing  there  might  be  a  parting  at  which 
strangers  would  not  be  welcome.  But  the  part 
ing,  like  all  else,  was  dignified  and  ceremo 
nious.  She  could  not  see  the  boy's  face,  for  he 
stood  with  his  back  toward  her,  but  as  far  as 
she  could  judge  he  also  was  calm  and  self-pos 
sessed.  She  noticed,  however,  that  the  Gen 
eral  had  to  swallow,  with  a  sudden  gulp,  a 
large  portion  of  what  appeared  to  be  a  care 
fully  constructed  sentence. 

They  drove  in  silence  down  the  long  avenue 
beneath  the  maples,  and  the  driver,  perhaps 
to  put  them  at  their  ease,  said  something 
about  getting  along  faster  in  this  light  wagon 
than  with  the  stage,  but  both  his  passengers 
seemed  in  a  silent  mood  and  made  no  answer. 
As  they  turned  into  the  main  road  the  Gen 
eral,  who  was  on  the  side  nearest  the  house, 
looked  back.  At  the  farther  end  of  the  avenue 
stood  the  boy  in  the  same  position,  still  watch 
ing  them.  The  old  soldier  brought  his  hand  to 

r  so  i 


AMOS     JUDD 

his  hat  and  down  again  in  a  military  salute 
that  was  evidently  familiar  to  the  little  person 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  driveway,  for  it  was 
promptly  acknowledged,  and  although  a  fare 
well  to  the  last  ties  between  himself  and  his 
country,  was  returned  with  head  erect,  as  from 
one  veteran  to  another. 


[31   ] 


II 

TWENTY  years  have  passed. 
The  corner  mansion  of  the  Van  Koovers 
is  ablaze  with  light.  Long  rows  of  carnages 
surmounted  by  sleepy  coachmen  extend  along 
Madison  Avenue  and  into  the  neighboring 
street.  The  temporary  awning  from  the  front 
door  to  the  curbstone  serves  only  to  shield 
the  coming  and  departing  guest  from  the  gaze 
of  heaven,  for  the  moon  and  stars  are  shining 
brightly,  as  if  they  also  would  like  to  enter. 
But  when  the  front  door  opens,  which  is  fre 
quent,  it  emits  a  blast  of  music,  taunting  and 
defiant,  reminding  the  outside  universe  of  its 
plebeian  origin. 

Inside  there  is  a  scene  of  festivity  and  splen 
dor,  of  dazzling  gayety,  of  youth  and  mirth  and 
decorous  joy.  The  opulence  of  the  Van  Koovers 
is  of  sanctifying  solidity,  and  when  they  give  a 
ball  they  do  it  in  a  style  to  be  remembered. 
[32  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

The  house  itself,  with  its  sumptuous  furniture, 
its  magnificent  ceilings  and  stately  dimensions 
is  sufficiently  impressive  in  every-day  attire, 
but  to-night  it  reminds  you  of  the  Arabian 
Tales.  The  family  portraits,  the  gracious  dig 
nity  of  the  host  and  hostess,  the  bearing  of  the 
servants,  all  speak  of  pedigree  and  hereditary 
honors. 

Roses  and  violets,  in  lavish  profusion,  fill 
every  corner,  are  festooned  around  doors  and 
windows,  even  along  the  walls  and  up  the 
stairs,  their  perfume  mingling  with  the  music. 
And  the  music,  dreamy  yet  voluminous,  sways 
hither  and  thither  a  sea  of  maidens  Avith  snowy 
necks  and  shimmering  jewels,  floating  grace 
fully  about  in  the  arms  of  anxious  youths. 
These  youths,  although  unspeakably  happy, 
wear  upon  their  faces,  as  is  usual  upon  such 
occasions,  an  expression  of  corroding  care. 

As  a  waltz  came  to  an  end,  a  tall,  light- 
haired  girl  with  crimson  roses  in  her  dress, 
[33] 


AMOS     JUDD 

dropped  into  a  seat.  She  fanned  herself  rapidly 
as  if  to  drive  away  a  most  becoming  color  that 
had  taken  possession  of  her  cheeks.  Her 
breath  came  quickly,  the  string  of  pearls  upon 
her  neck  rising  and  falling  as  if  sharing  in  the 
general  joy.  With  her  long  throat,  her  well- 
poised  head,  and  a  certain  dignity  of  uncon 
scious  pride  she  might  be  described  as  old- 
fashioned  from  her  resemblance  to  a  favorite 
type  in  the  portraits  of  a  century  ago.  Perhaps 
her  prettiest  feature  was  the  low,  wide  fore 
head  about  which  the  hair  seemed  to  advance 
and  recede  in  exceptionally  graceful  lines.  Her 
charm  to  those  who  know  her  but  superficially 
was  in  her  voice  and  manner,  in  the  frankness 
of  her  eyes,  and,  above  all  perhaps,  in  that  all- 
conquering  charm,  a  total  absence  of  self-con 
sciousness.  But  whatever  the  reason,  no  girl 
in  the  room  received  more  attention. 

Her  partner,  a  sculptor  with   a  bald   head 
and  a  reputation,  took  the   chair  beside  her. 
[34] 


AMOS     JUDD 

As  her  eyes  wandered  carelessly  about  the 
room  she  inquired,  in  an  indifferent  tone: 
"Who  is  that  swarthy  youth  talking  with  Julia 
Bancroft?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  looks  like  a  foreigner." 
Then  he  added,  with  more  interest,  "But  isn't 
he  a  beauty!" 

"Yes,  his  features  are  good." 

"He  is  an  Oriental  of  some  sort,  and  does  n't 
quite  harmonize  with  a  claw-hammer  coat.  He 
should  wear  an  emerald-green  nightcap  with 
a  ruby  in  the  centre,  about  the  size  of  a  hen's 
egg,  a  yellow  dressing-gown  and  white  satin 
trousers,  all  copiously  sprinkled  with  diamonds." 

She  smiled.  "Yes,  and  he  might  be  interest 
ing  if  he  were  not  quite  so  handsome ;  but  here 
he  comes!" 

The  youth  in  question,  as  he  came  down  the 

room  and  passed  them,  seemed  to  be  having  a 

jolly  time  with  his  companion  and  he  failed  to 

notice    the   two   people  who  were  discussing 

[35] 


AMOS     JUDD 

him.  It  was  a  boyish  face  notwithstanding  the 
regular  features  and  square  jaw,  and  at  the 
present  moment  it  wore  a  smile  that  betrayed 
the  most  intense  amusement.  When  he  was 
well  out  of  hearing,  the  sculptor  exclaimed: 
"He  is  the  most  artistic  thing  I  ever  saw!  The 
lines  of  his  eyes  and  nose  are  superb!  And 
what  a  chin!  I  should  like  to  own  him!" 

"You  couldn't  eat  him." 

"No,  but  I  could  put  him  on  exhibition  at 
five  dollars  a  ticket.  Every  girl  in  New  York 
would  be  there;  you  among  them." 

Miss  Cabot  appeared  to  consider.  "I  am  not 
so  sure.  He  probably  is  much  less  interesting 
than  he  looks.  Handsome  males  over  three 
years  of  age  are  the  deadliest  bores  in  life; 
sculptors  of  course  excepted." 

"It  does  seem  to  be  a  kind  of  prosperity  the 
human  male  is  unable  to  support  without  im 
pairment."  Then  addressing  a  blase  young  man 
lounging  wearily  by: 

[36] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Horace,  do  you  know  who  that  is  talking 
with  Miss  Bancroft?" 

Horace,  a  round-shouldered  blond  whose 
high  collar  seemed  to  force  his  chin,  not  up 
ward,  but  outward  horizontally,  fingered  the 
ends  of  a  frail  mustache  and  asked: 

"You  mean  that  pigeon-toed  fellow  with 
the  dark  face?" 

Miss  Cabot  could  not  help  laughing. 
"There  's  a  summing  up  of  your  beauty,"  she 
exclaimed,  turning  to  the  sculptor. 

He  smiled  as  he  answered:  "It  is  evident 
you  are  an  admirer.  But  do  you  know  who 
he  is?" 

"Yes,  I  know  him." 

"Well,  what  is  it?  A  Hindu  prince,  a 
Persian  poet,  or  a  simple  corsair  of  the  Adri 
atic?" 

"He  is  a  Connecticut  farmer." 

"Never!" 

"And  his  name  is  Judd — Amos  Judd." 
[37  J 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Miss  Cabot.  "What  a 
come  down!  We  hoped  he  was  something 
more  unusual  than  that." 

"Well,  he  is  more  unusual  than  that.  He  is 
a  paralyzer  of  the  female  heart.  I  knew  him 
in  college.  At  dances  and  parties  we  were 
generally  sure  to  find  him  tucked  away  on 
the  stairs  or  out  on  a  porch  with  the  pret 
tiest  girl  of  the  ball,  and  he  looked  so  much 
like  an  Oriental  prince  we  used  to  call  him 
the  Bellehugger  of  Spoonmore." 

"Disgusting!" 

"But  that  is  a  trifling  and  unimportant  de 
tail  of  his  character,  Miss  Cabot,  and  conveys 
a  cold  impression  of  Mr.  Judd's  experiences. 
Don  Giovanni  was  a  puritanical  prig  in  com 
parison.  Then  at  college  he  had  the  bad  taste 
to  murder  a  classmate." 

Miss  Cabot  looked  up  in  horror. 

"But  then  he  had  his  virtues.  He  could 
drink  more  without  showing  it  than  any  fel- 
[38] 


AMOS     JUDD 

low  in  college,  and  he  was  the  richest  man  in 
his  class." 

"Oh,  come  now,  Horace,"  said  the  sculptor, 
"you  are  evidently  a  good  friend  of  his,  but 
your  desire  to  do  him  a  good  turn  may  be 
carrying  you  beyond  the  limits  of — how  shall 
I  say  it?" 

"You  mean  that  I  am  lying." 
"Well,  that  is  the  rough  idea." 
Horace  smiled.  "No,  I  am  not  lying.   It  is 
all  true,"  and  he  passed  wearily  on. 

It  was  not  many  minutes  before  Molly  Cabot 
was  again  moving  over  the  floor,  this  time  with 
the  son  of  the  house.  Stephen  Van  Koover 
was  one  of  those  unfortunates  whose  mental 
outfit  qualified  him  for  something  better  than 
the  career  of  clothes  and  conversation  to  which 
he  was  doomed  by  the  family  wealth. 

"This  recalls   old   times.   Isn't   it   three   or 
four  years  since  we  have   danced   together?" 
he  asked.  "Or  is  it  three  or  four  hundred?" 
[39] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Thank  you!  I  am  glad  you  realize  what 
you  have  missed." 

"You  do  dance  like  an  angel,  Miss  Molly, 
and  it 's  a  sin  to  squander  such  talent  on  me. 
I  wish  you  would  try  it  with  Judd;  my  sisters 
say  his  dancing  is  a  revelation." 

"Judd,  the  murderer?" 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"Horace  Bennett." 

"I  might  have  guessed  it.  Truth  and  Horace 
were  never  chums.  Judd  bears  the  same  rela 
tion  to  Horace  as  sunshine  to  a  damp  cellar." 

As  the  music  ceased  they  strolled  to  a  little 
divan  at  the  end  of  the  room. 

"He  did  kill  a  man,  a  classmate,  but  he  had 
the  sympathies  of  his  entire  class.  It  was  partly 
an  accident,  anyway." 

"I  am  glad  for  his  sake,  as  there  seems  to 
be  a  prejudice  against  murder." 

"This  was  a  little  of  both.  We  were  having 
a  supper,  about  twenty  of  us,  just  before  class- 

r  40 1 


AMOS     JUDD 

day.  After  the  supper,  when  we  were  all  a 
trifle  hilarious,  Slade  came  up  behind  Judd 
and  poured  some  wine  down  his  neck.  Judd 
faced  about;  then  Slade  made  a  mock  apol 
ogy,  and  added  an  insulting  speech.  He  was  a 
master  in  that  sort  of  thing,  and  while  doing 
it  he  emptied  his  wineglass  into  Judd's  face. 
Now  Judd  is  overweighted  with  a  peculiar 
kind  of  Oriental  pride,  and  also  with  an  un 
fortunate  temper;  not  a  bad  temper,  but  a 
sudden,  unreliable,  cyclonic  affair,  that  carries 
the  owner  with  it,  generally  faster  than  is 
necessary,  and  sometimes  a  great  deal  farther. 
Now  Slade  knew  all  this,  and  as  he  was  an 
all-around  athlete  and  the  heavier  man,  there 
was  no  doubt  in  our  minds  that  he  meant 
Judd  should  strike  out,  and  then  he  would 
have  some  fun  with  him. 

"Well,  Judd  grew  as  black  as  a  thunder 
cloud,  but  he  kept  his  temper.  His  hand  shook 
as  he  wiped   his  face  with  his  handkerchief 
[41   ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

and  quietly  turned  his  back  upon  him.  Then 
it  was  that  the  other  man  made  the  crowning 
error  of  his  life.  He  was  just  enough  of  a  bully 
to  misunderstand  Judd's  decent  behavior,  and 
his  contempt  was  so  great  for  one  who  could 
accept  such  an  indignity  that  he  kicked  him. 
Judd  wheeled  about,  seized  him  by  the  throat 
and  banged  his  head  against  the  wall  with  a 
force  and  fury  that  sobered  every  fellow  in 
the  room.  Close  beside  them  was  an  open  win 
dow  reaching  to  the  floor,  with  a  low  iron  rail 
ing  outside.  Judd,  half  lifting  him  from  the 
floor,  sent  him  flying  through  this  window, 
and  over  the  balcony." 

"Gracious!  Was  he  dead  from  the  blows  on 
his  head?" 

"No,  but  a  blow  awaited  him  outside  that 
would  have  finished  an  ox.  This  window  was 
about  thirteen  feet  from  the  ground,  and  be 
low  it  stood  a  granite  hitching  post.  When 
Slade  came  down  like  a  diver  from  a  boat  and 
[42] 


AMOS     JUDD 

struck  head  foremost  against  the  top  of  this 
post  something  was  sure  to  suffer,  and  the 
granite  post  is  there  to-day,  with  no  signs  of 
injury." 

"How  can  you  speak  of  it  in  such  a  tone!" 
"Well,  I  am  afraid  none  of  us  had  a  deep 
affection  for  the  victim.  And  then  Judd  was  so 
refreshingly  honest !  He  said  he  was  glad  Slade 
was  dead;  that  the  world  would  be  better  if 
all  such  men  were  out  of  it,  and  refused  to 
go  to  the  funeral  or  to  wear  the  usual  class 
mourning." 

"Which  was  in  disgustingly  bad  taste!" 
"  Possibly,  but  uncommonly  honest.  And  then 
it  is  hardly  fair  to  judge  him  by  our  standards. 
He  is  built  of  foreign  material,  and  he  had 
received  something  that  it  was  simply  not  in 
his  nature  to  forgive." 

Their  voices  were  drowned  in  the  music  that 
again  filled  the  room.  The  dance  over,  they 
sauntered  out  into  the  large  hall,  where  Flem- 

r  43  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

ish  and  Italian  tapestries  formed  an  opulent 
harmony  with  Van  Koover  portraits.  In  the  air 
of  this  apartment  one  breathed  the  ancestral 
repose  that  speaks  of  princely  origin.  It  was 
not  intended,  however,  that  this  atmosphere 
should  recall  the  founder  of  the  house  who, 
but  four  generations  ago,  was  peddling  knick- 
knacks  along  the  Bowery. 

As  Miss  Cabot  was  uncomfortably  warm  and 
suggested  a  cooler  air  he  led  her  to  the  farther 
end  of  the  long  hall,  beyond  the  stairs,  and 
halted  at  the  entrance  of  a  conservatory. 

"Delicious!"  and  she  inhaled  a  long  breath 
of  the  fresh,  moist  air. 

"Wait  for  me  just  a  moment,  and  I  will 
bring  you  the  glass  of  water."  and  he  vanished. 

An  inviting  obscurity  pervaded  this  conser 
vatory,  which,  like  the  rest  of  the  Van  Koover 
mansion,  was  spacious  and  impressive.  At  the 
farther  end,  the  gloom  was  picturesquely 
broken  by  rays  of  moonlight  slanting  through 
[44] 


AMOS     JUDD 

the  lofty  windows.  The  only  living  occupants 
seemed  to  be  one  or  two  pairs  of  invisible 
lovers,  whose  voices  were  faintly  audible  above 
the  splashing  of  the  little  fountain  in  the  cen 
tre.  This  busy  fountain  formed  a  discreet  ac 
companiment  to  the  flirtations  in  the  sur 
rounding  shrubbery.  Stepping  to  the  side  of 
the  basin,  she  stood  for  a  moment  looking 
down  into  its  diminutive  depths.  The  falling 
water  and  the  distant  music  formed  a  soothing 
melody,  and  a  welcome  restfulness  stole  gently 
upon  her  senses  as  she  inhaled,  with  the  fra 
grance  of  the  tropics,  the  peace  and  poetry 
of  a  summer  night.  She  stood  for  a  moment 
yielding  to  a  gentle  enchantment;  it  seemed 
a  different  world,  apart  from  the  great  city 
in  which  she  lived,  a  world  of  flowers,  and  per 
fumes,  of  fountains  and  perpetual  music;  of 
moonlight  and  of  whispering  lovers. 

At  last,  as  if  waking  from  a  dream,  the  girl 
raised  her  head  and  looked  toward  the  win- 


AMOS     JUDD 

dows  beyond,  where  a  flood  of  moonlight  illu 
mined  deep  masses  of  exotic  foliage,  repeating 
them  in  fantastic  shadows  on  the  marble  floor. 
Walking  slowly  from  the  fountain,  she  lingered 
between  the  overhanging  palms,  then  stepped 
into  the  moonbeams,  a  radiant  figure  with  her 
bare  neck  and  arms  and  glistening  jewels  in 
this  full  white  light,  against  the  gloom  of  the 
conservatory.  The  diamonds  in  the  crescent 
above  her  forehead  flashed  as  if  quivering  into 
life  as  she  stopped  and  looked  up  at  the 
planet. 

A  figure  close  beside  her,  that  had  formed 
part  of  the  surrounding  shadow,  started  back 
with  a  suddenness  that  caused  her,  also,  to 
retreat  a  step  and  press  a  hand  to  her  heart. 
It  was  more  from  nervousness  than  fear,  as  she 
was  simply  startled.  She  at  once  recovered  her 
self,  ashamed  at  being  taken  off  her  guard,  but 
a  glance  at  the  man  beside  her,  whose  face 
was  now  also  in  the  light,  filled  her  with  a 
[  46] 


AMOS     JUDD 

fresh  surprise.  It  was  the  Oriental  beauty;  the 
murderer,  Judd,  and  the  intensity  of  his  ex 
pression  almost  frightened  her.  His  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  her  own  in  speechless  wonder,  and 
as  they  moved  to  the  crescent  in  her  hair,  then 
back  again  to  her  face,  they  showed  both  ter 
ror  and  astonishment.  Yet  it  seemed  a  look  of 
recognition,  for  he  bent  eagerly  forward,  as  if 
to  make  sure  he  were  not  mistaken. 

It  was  all  in  an  instant.  Then,  with  a  step 
backward  and  an  inclination  of  the  head,  he 
stammered  : 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  I  —  I  was  startled.  Pray 
forgive  me." 

He  gave  an  arm  to  his  companion,  a  pretty 
girl  in  pink  who,  standing  behind  him,  had 
missed  the  details  of  the  little  scene,  and  they 
walked  away  among  the  plants  and  out  of  the 
conservatory. 

Later  in  the  evening,  as  Miss  Cabot  stood 
near  the  door  of  the  ball-room,  the  girl  with 
[47] 


AMOS     JUDD 

whom  she  was  speaking  introduced  a  friend, 
and  she  found  herself  again  in  the  presence 
of  the  Connecticut  farmer,  the  young  man  of 
the  moonlight.  But  this  time  he  wore  a  very 
different  expression  from  that  of  the  conser 
vatory.  There  was  a  pleasant  smile  on  the 
dark  and  somewhat  boyish  face  as  he  apolo 
gized  for  the  scene  among  the  plants.  "I  am 
sorry  if  it  annoyed  you,  but  I  was  startled  by 
an  unexpected  resemblance." 

She  looked  into  his  eyes  as  he  spoke,  and 
understood  why  the  sculptor  should  have  been 
enthusiastic  over  such  a  face.  It  was  of  an  un 
familiar  type,  and  bore  a  curious  resemblance 
to  those  she  had  attributed  as  a  child  to  the 
heroes  of  her  imagination.  The  eyes  were  long, 
dark,  and  seemed  capable  of  any  quantity  of 
expression,  either  good  or  bad.  Miss  Cabot  was 
uncertain  as  to  whether  they  pleased  her.  At 
present  they  looked  somewhat  anxiously  into 
her  own  with  a  touch  of  misgiving.  Neverthe- 
[48  ] 


AMOS     J  U  D  D 

less,  she  felt  that  he  was  telling  her  only  a 
portion  of  the  truth. 

"If  it  is  my  misfortune  to  startle  unsuspect 
ing  guests  when  I  come  upon  them  without 
notice,  it  is  for  me  to  apologize.  No,"  then 
continuing  hastily,  as  he  began  a  protestation: 
"You  needn't  explain!  Do  not  trouble  your 
self  to  tell  me  that  only  the  most  disturbing- 
types  of  beauty  cause  you  just  that  kind  of  a 
shock." 

"But  why  not,  if  it  is  the  truth?  Besides, 
as  you  stepped  out  into  the  moonlight  you 
were  a  blinding  apparition,  all  in  white,  against 
the  darkness  behind.  I  have  no  doubt  the 
moon  herself  was  a  little  startled." 

"You  certainly  were  less  happy  in  conceal 
ing  your  agitation  than  the  —  other  victim." 

Although  his  manner  was  deferential  and 
gave  indications  of  a  positive  but  discreetly 
repressed  admiration,  she  felt  ill  at  ease  with 
him.  It  was  impossible  to  forget  his  repulsive 


AMOS     JUDD 

title,  and  turning  partly  away  she  looked  over 
the  room,  and  answered: 

"  Since  you  are  completely  recovered  and 
my  apology  is  accepted,  I  suppose  there  is 
nothing  more  to  be  done." 

As  the  words  were  uttered  the  opening 
strains  of  a  waltz  came  floating  across  the 
hall,  and  he  begged  that  she  give  him  a  dance 
in  token  of  absolution.  It  was  easier  to  grant 
it  than  to  refuse,  and  in  another  moment  they 
were  gliding  over  the  floor.  As  they  moved 
away  she  experienced  a  new  sensation.  This 
partner,  while  adapting  himself  to  her  own 
movements,  carried  her  with  a  gentle  force 
that  relieved  her  of  all  volition.  While,  in  ef 
fect,  borne  up  and  along  by  the  music,  she 
was  governed  by  a  pressure  that  was  hardly 
perceptible;  yet,  at  a  critical  instant,  when  a 
reckless  dancer  came  plunging  toward  them, 
she  felt  herself  swung  lightly  from  his  path, 
to  relapse  at  once  into  a  tranquil  security  and 

[  so] 


AMOS     JUDD 

float  peacefully  away.  This  floating  with  the 
music  was  so  easy,  so  very  drowsy  and  relax 
ing,  that  her  consciousness  almost  drifted  with 
the  rhythm  of  the  waltz.  Once,  as  her  eyes 
were  uplifted  to  the  gorgeous  frieze,  the  white- 
winged  Cupids  that  a  moment  before  were  loll 
ing  idly  against  the  blue  and  gold  background 
seemed  now  to  be  keeping  time  with  the  mu 
sic,  swaying  and  dancing  in  their  irresponsible 
nakedness. 

Miss  Cabot  wras  surprised  when  the  music 
ceased  and  at  once  regretted  having  danced 
such  a  length  of  time  with  a  stranger  of  un 
savory  reputation.  As  they  left  the  ball-room 
and  entered  the  ancestral  hall  she  was  flushed 
and  out  of  breath,  endeavoring  with  one  hand 
to  replace  a  lock  of  hair  that  had  fallen  about 
her  neck. 

"It's  a  shame,"   he  muttered. 

"What?  That  we  danced  so  long?" 

"Oh,  no!  That  it  should  ever  end!" 
[51    ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

They  looked  about  for  a  resting-place,  but 
all  were  occupied.  Girls  in  pink,  in  white,  in 
pale  blue,  in  delicate  yellow,  in  every  color 
that  was  becoming  to  their  individual  beauty, 
or  to  its  absence,  were  clustered  about  the 
great  hall,  filling  every  seat.  Around  them, 
like  bees  in  a  flower  garden,  hovered  men  in 
black. 

"There  is  our  chance,"  he  said,  pointing  to 
the  stairs.  Upon  the  first  landing,  but  three 
steps  from  the  floor,  there  was  a  semicircular 
recess  along  whose  wall  ran  a  cushioned  seat. 
At  the  entrance,  upon  a  pedestal  of  Sienna 
marble,  sat  a  Cupid  with  a  finger  upon  his  lips ; 
a  bit  of  ancient  sculpture  from  a  Roman  tem 
ple.  Behind  him,  within,  an  inviting  gloom 
suggested  repose  and  silence.  As  they  stepped 
upon  the  tiger-skin  that  nearly  covered  the 
landing,  Miss  Cabot  was  accosted  by  a  man 
whose  thoughtful  face  brightened  up  at  the 
meeting.  When  he  glanced  at  her  companion 
[  52] 


AMOS     JUDD 

there  was  a  similar  welcome,  and  they  called 
each  other  John  and  Amos,  and  appeared  to 
be  on  intimate  terms.  After  a  short  conversa 
tion  he  left  them  and  descended  into  the  hall. 
She  was  puzzled  at  the  friendship  of  these  two 
men,  and  wondered  what  there  could  possibly 
be  in  common  between  a  promising  clergyman 
of  exceptional  purity  of  character  and  this  dis 
solute,  hot-headed  Judd.  As  they  seated  them 
selves  in  the  alcove,  she  said,  in  a  tone  of 
surprise : 

"So  you  and  John  Harding  are  friends!" 

He  smiled.  "Yes;  and  I  lament  your  as 
tonishment." 

She  blushed  at  her  stupid  betrayal  of  the 
thought,  while  he  made  no  effort  to  conceal 
his  amusement. 

"  It  may  be  an  unkind  thing  to  say  of  him, 
but  we  have  been  good  friends  for  several 
years." 

Laying  her  fan  in  her  lap,  she  devoted  both 
[53  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

hands  to  the  wandering  lock.  "Is  that  what 
drove  him  to  the  church?" 

"No.  For  that  I  am  not  responsible.,  thank 
Heaven!" 

"Why  thank  Heaven?  Is  there  any  harm  in 
being  a  clergyman?" 

"It  depends  on  the  man.  In  this  case  it  cer 
tainly  seems  a  waste  of  good  material." 

Now,  it  happened  that  Molly  Cabot's  reli 
gious  convictions  were  deeply  rooted,  and  she 
felt  a  thrill  of  indignation  at  this  slur  upon  a 
sacred  calling.  Of  course,  it  was  not  surprising 
that  a  spoiled  youth  witli  a  murderous  temper 
should  prove  an  atheist  and  a  scoffer,  but  she 
was  irritated,  and  instinctively  took  the  field 
as  the  champion  of  a  righteous  cause. 

"Then  you  consider  it  a  waste  of  good 
material  for  an  honest  man  to  serve  the 
church?" 

Her  energy  surprised  him,  but  he  answered, 
pleasantly:  "I  do  not  say  that.  No  one  is  too 
[54] 


AMOS     JUDD 

good  for  any  honest  work.  I  only  say  that  a 
man  of  John  Harding's  originality  and  courage 
puts  himself  in  a  false  position  by  so  doing." 

"I  do  not  see  how/'  and  her  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  his  own  in  open  hostility.  He  still  smiled 
serenely  and  met  her  glance  with  provoking 
calmness. 

"Well,  at  present  he  is  young  and  full  of 
enthusiasm,,  believing  everything,  and  more 
besides ;  but  he  is  only  twenty-seven  now  and 
will  do  a  heap  of  thinking  before  he  is  forty. 
The  pathetic  part  of  it  is  that  he  binds  himself 
to  a  creed,  and  the  man  who  can  think  for 
thirteen  years  on  any  subject  without  modify 
ing  his  faith  ought  to  be  in  a  museum." 

"Not  if  it  is  the  true  faith." 

"If  it  is  the  true  faith,  there  is  danger  in 
thinking,  as  he  may  think  away  from  it;  so 
why  waste  a  brain  like  Harding's?" 

In  spite  of  a  certain  deference  and  gentle 
ness  of  tone  with  which  he  uttered  these  posi- 
[55  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

tive  sentiments  there  was  evident  enjoyment 
in  the  shock  they  created.  While  he  was 
speaking  she  noticed  in  the  centre  of  his  fore 
head  a  faint  scar  about  the  size  of  a  thimble 
end.  It  seemed  an  evanescent  mark,  only  vis 
ible  when  he  turned  his  face  at  certain  angles 
with  the  light,,  and  suggested  the  thought  that 
if  all  young  men  of  such  opinions  were  marked 
in  a  similar  manner  it  might  serve  as  a  whole 
some  warning  to  unbelievers. 

She  looked  down  at  her  fan  a  moment,  then 
answered,  very  quietly: 

"So  all  clergymen  over  forty  are  either  hyp 
ocrites  or  fools.  It  must  be  very  satisfying  to 
entertain  a  thorough  contempt  for  so  large  a 
profession." 

"Oh,  don't  say  contempt.  Rather  an  excess 
of  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate." 

At  that  moment  Horace  Bennett,  in  ascend 
ing  the  stairs,  stopped  for  an  instant  upon  the 
landing  and  stood  facing  them.  His  eyes  rested 
[56] 


AMOS     JUDD 

upon  herself  and  Mr.  Judd,  then  she  saw  him 
glance  at  the  marble  Cupid  who,  with  his  fin 
ger  to  his  lips,  seemed  acting  as  a  sentinel  for 
whatever  lovers  were  within.  Then  he  pulled 
the  ends  of  his  miserable  little  mustache,  and 
with  a  half-suppressed  smile  muttered  some 
thing  to  his  companion,  and  they  passed  up 
the  stairs.  The  hot  blood  flew  to  her  cheeks  as 
she  recalled  what  he  had  said  earlier  in  the 
evening  of  this  man  beside  her:  "We  were 
sure  to  find  him  tucked  away  on  the  stairs  or 
out  on  the  porch  with  a  girl.  So  we  called  him 
the  Bellehugger  of  Spoonmore." 

Never  in  her  life  had  she  felt  so  degraded, 
so  cheapened  in  her  own  esteem.  Hot,  cold, 
with  burning  cheeks,  and  tears  of  mortification 
in  her  eyes  she  rose  from  her  seat,  pressing 
a  handkerchief  against  her  lips,  and  stepped 
swiftly  out  upon  the  landing  and  down  into 
the  hall.  Mr.  Judd  followed  and  inquired  anx 
iously  if  she  were  ill;  could  he  do  anything? 
[57] 


AMOS     JUDD 

His  solicitude,  which  was  genuine,  caused  her 
to  realize  how  extraordinary  her  behavior  must 
appear  to  him.  The  close  air  in  the  alcove,  she 
answered  coldly,  must  have  affected  her.  It 
was  only  a  little  dizziness. 

To  her  great  relief  a  young  man  came  hur 
rying  up,  and  exclaimed: 

"I  have  been  looking  everywhere  for  you, 
Miss  Cabot!  The  cotillion  is  on!" 

A  formal  nod  to  Mr.  Judd,  and  she  moved 
away  with  an  unuttered  prayer  that  their 
paths  in  future  might  be  far  apart.  Her  wish 
was  granted,  at  least  for  that  night,  for  she 
saw  him  no  more  at  the  Van  Koovers'. 

When  she  reached  home  and  entered  her 
own  chamber,  the  moonlight  was  streaming 
into  the  room,  and  before  turning  up  the 
lights  she  had  the  curiosity  to  stand  near 
the  window  with  a  hand-glass  and  study  her 
own  reflection.  Only  the  usual  face  was  there, 
and  as  usual,  the  nose  was  too  short,  the  chin 
[58] 


AMOS     JUDD 

too  long,  and  all  the  other  defects  were  pres 
ent;  but  even  in  the  moonlight  they  seemed 
hardly  sufficient  to  frighten  a  strong  young 
man. 


59] 


Ill 

A  FIRST  interview  with  the  Hon.  J.  W. 
Cabot,  senior  member  of  the  firm  of 
Cabot,  Hollingsworth  &  Perry,  generally  re 
sulted  in  a  belief  that  this  distinguished  law 
yer  was  a  severe,  unsympathetic  man  whose 
dignity,  under  ordinary  pressure,  was  not  likely 
to  abate.  An  abundant  crop  of  short  gray  hair 
covered  a  square,  well-shaped  head;  a  head 
that  seemed  hard  and  strong.  His  forehead, 
his  jaw,  and  his  shoulders  were  also  square, 
and  they  also  seemed  hard  and  strong. 

His  manner  was  cold,  his  voice  firm  and 
even,  and  he  was  never  ruffled.  The  cool  gray 
eyes  rested  calmly  upon  you  as  if  screening, 
out  of  consideration  for  your  own  fallacious 
knowledge,  the  profundity  of  wisdom  that  re 
posed  behind  them.  His  memory  seemed  in 
fallible.  The  extent  and  accuracy  of  his  legal 
knowledge  was  a  perpetual  surprise,  even  to 
F  60  1 


AMOS    JUD  D 

his  partners.  For  simplifying  complex  entan 
glements  his  clearness  and  rapidity  amounted 
to  a  genius.  His  fees  were  colossal.  In  short,, 
he  seemed  just  the  man  who  would  never 
write  such  a  note  as  this: 

TOWHEAD: 

1  SHALL  bring  an  old  friend  to  dinner   to 
night. 

Don't  give  us  rubber  olives  or  shad  of  last 
year's  vintage.  He  is  not  a  bric-a-brac  shop. 

JIMSEY. 

This  document  was  sent  to  his  daughter, 
who  since  her  mother's  death,  three  years 
ago,  had  managed  the  household.  When  a 
child  of  five  she  overheard  a  friend  address 
him  frequently  as  Jim,  whereupon  she  ad 
justed  a  final  syllable  to  render  it  less  formal, 
and  ever  after  continued  to  use  it. 

It  was  an  afternoon  in  March  that  this  note 
arrived,  nearly  four  months  after  the  ball  at 
[61  ] 


AMOS     J  U  I)  D 

the  Van  Koovers',  and  when,  an  hour  or  two 
later,  her  father  presented  his  old  friend,  Mr. 
Samuel  Fettiplace,  she  was  struck  by  his  enor 
mous  frame  and  by  the  extraordinary  color  of 
his  face.  This  color,  a  blazing,  resplendent  red, 
not  only  occupied  his  nose  and  cheeks,  but 
extended,  in  quieter  tones,  over  his  forehead 
and  neck,  even  to  the  bald  spot  upon  the  top 
of  his  head.  It  had  every  appearance  of  being 
that  expensive  decoration  that  can  only  be 
procured  by  a  prolonged  and  conscientious  in 
dulgence  in  the  choicest  Burgundies. 

His  large,  round,  light-blue  eyes  were  all  the 
bluer  from  their  crimson  setting.  A  more  honest 
pair  she  had  never  seen.  These,  with  his  silver 
hair  and  benevolent  forehead,  gave  the  impres 
sion  of  a  pleasantly  intemperate  bishop.  Molly 
Cabot  well  knew  that  her  father,  and  especially 
her  mother,  could  never  have  achieved  a  warm 
and  lasting  friendship  for  one  whose  habits 
were  honestly  represented  by  such  compromis 
ing  colors.  [  62  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

With  old-fashioned  courtesy  he  gave  her  his 
arm  into  the  dining-room,  and  as  they  seated 
themselves  at  table  he  said:  "You  look  like 
your  mother,  Miss  Molly,  and  I  am  glad  of  it; 
the  same  forehead  and  eyes,  and  the  same  kind 
expression.  I  was  afraid  when  I  saw  you  last 
you  were  going  to  look  like  your  father.  He 
isn't  so  bad  looking,  considering  the  life  he 
has  led,  but  it  would  be  a  calamitous  thing  for 
a  well-meaning  girl  to  resemble  any  lawyer." 

She  laughed:  "But  papa  is  not  as  bad  as 
he  looks,  you  know." 

"Yes,  he  is;  I  have  known  him  longer  than 
you  have.  But  there  seem  to  be  honors  in  dis 
honor.  During  these  years  that  I  have  been 
trotting  about  the  globe  he  has  been  climbing 
higher  and  higher,  until  now  his  legs  are  dan 
gling  from  the  topmost  round.  Why,  I  under 
stand  that  none  but  the  solidest  billionaires  and 
the  fattest  monopolies  presume  to  retain  him." 

"I  am  afraid  someone  took  you  for  a  hay- 
[  63  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

seed,,  Sam,,  and  has  been  stuffing  you." 

"No,  they  have  not!"  exclaimed  the  daugh 
ter.  "Everybody  says  he  is  the  best  lawyer  in 
New  York.  He  has  refused  to  be  a  judge  sev 
eral  times!" 

"Oh,  come,,  Molly!  Don't  make  a  fool  of 
your  old  father!" 

"Go  ahead,  Miss  Molly,"  cried  Mr.  Fetti- 
place.  "Don't  mind  him!  I  know  you  are  right. 
But  I  suppose  he  pays  the  customary  penalty 
for  his  greatness;  slaves  day  and  night,  both 
summer  and  winter,  eh?" 

"Yes,  he  does,  and  if  you  have  any  influ 
ence  with  him,  Mr.  Fettiplace,  I  wish  you 
would  bring  it  to  bear." 

"I  will.   He  shall  do  just  as  you  decide." 

"Now,  Molly,"  said  Mr.  Cabot,  "be  just. 
Have  I  not  promised  to  take  a  three  months' 
vacation  this  summer?" 

"Where  do  you  spend  the  summer?"  asked 
Mr.  Fettiplace. 

[64] 


AMOS     JU  DD 

"I  don't  know  yet.  We  gave  up  our  place 
at  the  shore  two  years  ago.  The  salt  air  does 
not  agree  with  me  any  too  well;  and  neither 
Molly  nor  I  care  for  it  particularly." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  the  guest  felt  that 
the  wife's  death  might  have  saddened  the 
pleasant  memories  in  the  house  by  the  sea. 
As  if  struck  with  an  idea,  he  laid  down  his 
fork  and  exclaimed: 

"Why  not  come  to  Daleford?  There  is  a 
house  all  furnished  and  ready  for  you!  My 
daughter  and  her  husband  are  going  abroad, 
and  you  could  have  it  until  November  if  you 
wished." 

"Where  is  that,  Sam?" 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Fettiplace,  closing  his  eyes 
in  a  profound  calculation,  "I  am  weak  at  fig 
ures,  but  on  the  map  it  is  north  of  Hartford 
and  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  below  the 
Massachusetts  border." 

Mr.  Cabot  laughed.  "I  remember  you  were 
[65  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

always  weak  at  figures.  What  is  it,  a  fashion 
able  resort?" 

"Not  at  all.  If  that  is  what  you  are  after, 
don't  think  of  it." 

"But  it  is  not  what  we  are  after,"  said 
Molly.  "We  want  a  quiet  place  to  rest  and 
read  in." 

"With  just  enough  walking  and  driving/' 
put  in  the  father,  "to  induce  us  to  eat  and 
sleep  a  little  more  than  is  necessary." 

"Then  Daleford  is  your  place/'  and  the 
huge  guest,  with  his  head  to  one  side,  rolled 
his  light-blue  eyes  toward  Molly. 

"Do  tell  us  about  it,"  she  demanded. 

"Well,  in  the  first  place  Daleford  itself  is 
a  forgotten  little  village,  where  nothing  was 
ever  known  to  happen.  Of  course  births,  mar 
riages,  and  deaths  have  occurred  there,  but 
even  those  things  have  always  been  more  un 
eventful  than  anywhere  else.  Nothing  can 
take  place  without  the  whole  village  knowing 
[  66] 


AMOS     J  U  D  D 

it,  and  knowing  it  at  once :  yet  the  inhabitants 
are  always  asleep.  No  one  is  ever  in  sight.  If 
you  should  lock  yourself  in  your  own  room, 
pull  down  the  curtains  and  sneeze,  say  your 
prayers  or  change  a  garment  at  an  unaccus 
tomed  hour,  all  Daleford  would  be  comment 
ing  on  it  before  you  could  unlock  the  door 
and  get  downstairs  again." 

"That  sounds  inviting,"  said  Mr.  Cabot. 
"There  is  nothing  like  privacy." 

"  I  only  tell  you  this  so  there  shall  be  no  de 
ception.  But  all  that  does  not  really  concern 
you,  as  our  house  is  a  mile  from  the  village." 
Then  he  went  on  to  describe  its  real  advan 
tages:  the  pure  air,  the  hills,  the  beautiful 
scenery,  the  restful  country  life,  and  when  he 
had  finished  his  hearers  were  much  interested 
and  thought  seriously  of  going  to  see  it. 

"I  notice,  Sam,  that  you  make  no  mention 
of  the  malaria,  rheumatism,  or  organized  bands 
of  mosquitoes,  drunk  with  your  own  blood, 
[67] 


AMOS     JUDD 

who  haul  you  from  your  bed  at  dead  of  night. 
Or  do  you  ^ake  it  for  granted  we  should  be 
disappointed  without  those  things?" 

"No,  sir.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  every 
New  Yorker  brings  those  things  with  him/' 
and  again  a  large  china-blue  eye  was  obscured 
by  a  laborious  wink  as  its  mate  beamed  trium 
phantly  upon  the  daughter. 

There  were  further  questions  regarding  the 
house,  the  means  of  getting  there,,  and  finally 
Molly  asked  if  there  were  any  neighbors. 

"Only  one.  The  others  are  half  a  mile 
away." 

"And  who  is  that  one?"   she  asked. 

"That  one  is  Judd,  and  he  is  an  ideal 
neighbor." 

"Is  he  a  farmer?" 

"Yes,  in  a  way.   He  raises  horses  and  pups 
and  costly  cattle."  Then,  turning  to  Mr.  Cabot. 
"It  is   the    young    man   I   brought  into  your 
office  this  morning,  Jim." 
[68  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Well,  he  is  too  beautiful  for  the  country! 
If  I  could  spend  a  summer  near  a  face  like 
that  I  shouldn't  care  what  the  scenery  was." 

"Is  his  name  Amos  Judd?"  asked  Molly. 

"Why,  yes.   Do  you  know  him?" 

"I  think  I  met  him  early  this  winter.  His 
reputation  is  not  the  best  in  the  world,  is  it?" 

Mr.  Fettiplace  seemed  embarrassed.  He  took 
a  sip  of  wine  before  answering. 

"  Perhaps  not.  There  have  been  stories  about 
him,  but,"  and  he  continued  with  more  than 
his  habitual  earnestness,  "I  have  a  higher 
opinion  of  him  and  would  trust  him  farther 
than  any  young  man  I  know!" 

She  felt,  nevertheless,  that  Mr.  Judd's  repu 
tation  might  not  be  a  proper  subject  for  a 
young  lady  to  discuss,  and  she  remained  si 
lent.  But  her  father  was  not  a  young  lady,  and 
he  had  heard  nothing  of  the  improprieties  of 
the  young  man's  career.  "What  is  his  particu 
lar  line  of  sin?"  he  inquired. 
[69] 


AMOS     J U  D  D 

"He  has  none.  At  present  he  is  all  right; 
but  at  college,  and  that  was  five  years  ago,  I 
am  afraid  he  took  a  livelier  interest  in  petti 
coats  than  in  the  advertised  course  of  study." 

"Of  course  he  did,"  said  Mr.  Cabot.  "That 
beauty  was  given  him  for  the  delectation  of 
other  mortals.  To  conceal  it  behind  a  book 
would  be  opposing  the  will  of  his  Creator." 

"Poor  Amos/'  said  Mr.  Fettiplace  with 
a  smile,  as  he  slowly  shook  his  head.  "His 
beauty  is  his  curse.  He  regards  it  as  a  blight, 
is  ashamed  of  it,  and  would  give  a  good  deal 
to  look  like  other  people.  Everybody  wonders 
who  he  is  and  where  he  came  from.  As  for  the 
wromen,  they  simply  cannot  keep  their  eyes 
away  from  him." 

"If  I  were  a  woman,"  said  Mr.  Cabot,  in 
a  slow,  judicial  manner,  "I  should  throw  my 
arms  about  his  neck  and  insist  upon  remaining 
there." 

Mr.  Fettiplace  chuckled,  not  only  at  the 
[70] 


AMOS     J  U D  D 

solemnity  of  his  friend's  face  during  the  de 
livery  of  the  speech,  but  at  the  contemptuous 
silence  with  which  this  and  similar  utterances 
were  received  by  the  daughter.  There  had 
always  been  a  gentler  and  more  lovable  side 
to  James  Cabot,  and  he  was  glad  to  see  that 
success  and  honors  had  not  destroyed  the 
mental  friskiness  and  love  of  nonsense  that 
had  been  an  irresistible  charm  in  former  years. 
He  was  also  glad  to  witness  the  affection  and 
perfect  understanding  between  father  and 
daughter.  It  was  evident  that  from  long  ex 
perience  she  wras  always  able  to  sift  the  wheat 
from  the  chaff,  and  was  never  deceived  or 
unnecessarily  shocked  by  anything  he  might 
choose  to  say. 

"Well,  he  will  be  here  soon,"  said  Mr.  Fet- 
tiplace,  "but  as  you  are  only  a  man,  you  may 
have  to  content  yourself  with  sitting  in  his 
lap." 

"Is  Mr.  Judd  coming  here  this  evening?" 
[71  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

inquired    Molly,   in  a  tone   that   betrayed  an 
absence  of  pleasure  at  the  news. 

Her  father  looked  over  in  mild  surprise. 
"Yes,  did  I  forget  to  tell  you?  I  asked  him 
to  dine,  but  he  had  another  engagement.  He 
is  to  drop  in  later.  And,  by  the  way,  Sam, 
where  did  the  young  man  get  that  face?  No 
line  of  Connecticut  farmers  bequeathed  such 
an  inheritance." 

"No,  they  did  not.  Judd's  little  mystery  has 
never  been  cleared  up.  I  can  only  repeat  the 
common  knowledge  of  Daleford,  that  the  boy 
was  brought  to  this  country  wrhen  he  was 
about  six  years  old,  and  that  a  few  handful s 
of  diamonds  and  rubies  came  with  him.  The 
value  of  this  treasure  has  been  exaggerated, 
probably,  but  with  all  allowances  made  it 
must  have  amounted  to  more  than  a  million 
dollars." 

"Why!"  exclaimed  Molly.  "It's  quite  like 
a  fairy  tale!  " 

t  72] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Yes,  and  the  mystery  is  still  agoing.  Jo- 
siah  Judd,  in  whose  hands  he  was  placed,  hap 
pened  to  be  the  only  person  who  knew  the 
boy's  history,  and  he  died  without  telling  it. 
Who  the  child  was  or  why  he  was  sent  here 
no  one  knows  and  no  one  seems  likely  to  dis 
cover.  Josiah  died  about  twelve  years  ago,  and 
ever  since  that  time  stray  clusters  of  emeralds, 
pearls,  and  diamonds  have  been  turning  up 
in  unexpected  places  about  the  house.  Some 
are  hidden  away  in  secretary  drawers,  others 
folded  in  bits  of  paper  behind  books.  They 
have  tumbled  from  the  pockets  of  Josiah' s  old 
clothes,  and  a  few  years  ago  his  widow  dis 
covered  in  one  of  his  ancient  slippers  an  enve 
lope  containing  something  that  felt  like  seeds. 
On  the  outside  was  written  'Amos's  things.' 
She  tore  it  open  and  found  a  dozen  or  more 
magnificent  rubies,  rubies  such  as  one  never 
sees  in  this  country.  They  were  sold  for  over 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars." 
[73] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Gracious!"  exclaimed  Molly,,  "what  pos 
sessed  him  to  leave  them  in  such  places?  Was 
he  crazy?" 

"On  the  contrary,  he  was  too  wise.  Not 
wishing  to  dispose  of  them  in  a  lump,  he  did 
it  gradually,  and  concealed  them  for  greater 
safety  in  different  places,  so  that  no  one  thief 
could  steal  them  all.  Whenever  he  sold  them 
he  invested  the  proceeds  in  solid  securities.  No 
one  knowTs  to  what  extent  the  old  farmhouse 
is  still  a  jewel  casket.  It  is  more  than  likely 
that  cracks  and  corners  to-day  are  hiding  their 
precious  stones." 

"How  mysterious  and  exciting!"  exclaimed 
Molly.  "It  seems  too  romantic  for  practical 
New  England." 

"That  is  just  the  trouble  with  it,"  said  her 
father.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  con 
tinued,  with  a  smile,  "I  suspect  our  guest  has 
been  reading  his  '  Monte  Cristo'  lately,  which 
may  account  for  a  pardonable  exaggeration  in 


AMOS     JUDD 

a  historian  who  means  to  be  honest.  Who  told 
you  all  this,  Sam?  The  Judo's'  family  cat?" 

Mr.  Fettiplace  drew  his  hand  slowly  across 
his  forehead  and  closed  his  blue  eyes,  as  if 
hesitating  for  a  reply.  "There  is  so  much  that  is 
hard  to  believe  connected  with  Amos  that  one 
ought  to  prepare  his  audience  before  talking 
about  him.  I  will  tell  you  one  little  thing  that 
happened  to  myself,  an  occurrence  not  de 
pendent  upon  other  people's  credulity.  One 
day  last  autumn,  late  in  the  afternoon,  I  was 
walking  along  an  untravelled  road  through  the 
woods,  when  I  met  two  little  children  who 
were  playing  horse.  The  front  one,  the  horse, 
wore  a  garment  that  looked  like  a  white  silk 
overcoat  without  sleeves.  Otherwise  the  chil 
dren  were  roughly  clad,  with  battered  straw 
hats  and  bare  feet.  The  overcoat  had  a  curious, 
Oriental  cut,  and  there  was  a  good  deal  of  style 
to  it;  so  much,  in  fact,  and  of  such  a  foreign 
flavor,  that  I  stopped  to  get  a  better  look  at 
[75  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

it.  The  wearer,  a  boy  of  eight  or  ten,  I  recog 
nized  as  the  son  of  an  unprosperous  farmer 
who  lived  in  a  dilapidated  old  house  not  far 
away.  When  I  asked  him  where  he  got  his 
jacket  he  said  he  wore  it  at  the  children's 
tableaux:  that  he  was  the  prince  wrho  awoke 
the  sleeping  beauty  in  the  town  hall  last 
night.  Then  I  remembered  there  had  been  a 
performance  to  raise  money  for  the  library. 

"While  talking  with  him  I  noticed  there 
were  four  rows  of  little  pearl-shaped  buttons 
around  the  neck  and  down  the  front.  They 
formed  part  of  an  elaborate  design,  beautifully 
embroidered  in  gold  and  silver  thread,  old  and 
somewhat  tarnished,  but  in  excellent  pres 
ervation.  I  asked  him  what  those  ornaments 
were,  and  he  answered  they  were  beads. 
'But  who  owns  the  jacket?'  I  asked:  'Does 
it  belong  to  you?'  No,  it  belonged  to  Mrs. 
Judd,  who  had  lent  it  for  the  performance. 
'Then  why  don't  you  return  it  to  Mrs.  Judd?' 
[76] 


AMOS     J  U  D  D 

Oh,  they  were  going  to  return  it  to-morrow 
morning.  I  offered  to  take  it,  as  I  was  going 
that  way,  and  the  jacket  was  handed  over. 

"The  more  I  examined  the  article,  the 
more  interested  I  became,  and  finally  I  sat 
down  on  a  rock  and  made  a  study  of  it.  I 
found  the  garment  was  of  white  silk  and 
completely  covered  with  a  most  elaborate 
stitching  of  gold  and  silver  thread.  I  am  no 
expert  in  precious  stones,  but  I  knew  those 
beads  were  either  pearls  or  tremendously 
clever  imitations,  and  when  I  remembered 
there  was  a  good  old-fashioned  mystery  con 
nected  with  Amos' s  arrival  in  these  parts,  I 
began  to  feel  that  the  beads  stood  a  fair 
chance  of  being  more  than  they  pretended. 
I  counted  a  hundred  and  t\venty  of  them. 

"When   I  took  the  garment  to  Mrs.   Judd 

and  told  her  what  I  thought,  she  didn't  seem 

at  all  surprised;  simply  told  me  it  had  been 

lying    in    a    bureau-drawer    ever    since    Amos 

[77] 


AMOS     JU  DD 

came,  about  twenty  years  ago.  She  is  over 
eighty  and  her  memory  has  gone  rapidly  the 
last  few  years,  but  she  closed  her  eyes,  stroked 
her  hair,  and  said  she  remembered  now  that 
her  husband  had  told  her  this  jacket  was 
worth  a  good  many  dollars.  And  so  they 
always  kept  it  locked  away  in  an  upstairs 
drawer,  but  she  had  forgotten  all  about  that 
when  she  offered  it  to  the  Faxons  for  their 
performance.  Down  the  front  of  the  jacket 
were  large  splashes  of  a  dark  reddish-brown 
color  which  she  said  had  always  been  there, 
and  she  remembered  thinking,  as  she  first  laid 
the  coat  away,  that  Amos  had  been  in  some 
mischief  with  currant  jelly.  Amos  was  away 
just  then,  but  when  he  returned  we  took  all 
the  beads  off,  and  a  few  days  later  I  showed 
a  dozen  of  them  to  a  New  York  jeweller  who 
said  they  were  not  only  real  pearls,  but  for 
size  and  quality  he  had  seldom  seen  their 

equal." 

[78  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"They  must  have  been  tremendously  valu 
able/'  said  Molly. 

"They  averaged  twelve  hundred  dollars 
apiece." 

"Gracious!"  she  exclaimed.  "And  there 
were  a  hundred  and  twenty  of  them?" 

"Yes;  they  brought  a  little  more  than  a 
hundred  and  forty  thousand  dollars." 

"It  all  harmonizes  with  Judd's  appear 
ance/'  said  Mr.  Cabot;  "I  should  not  expect 
him  to  subsist  on  every-day  American  divi 
dends.  But  it's  a  good  jacket,  even  for  fairy 
land." 

"Yes,  it  certainly  is,  and  yet  there  was  the 
usual  touch  of  economy  in  it/'  Mr.  Fettiplace 
continued.  "When  we  came  to  remove  the 
pearls,  we  found  a  little  gold  loop  or  ring  in 
the  setting  behind  each  one  of  them.  Those 
loops  passed  through  a  sort  of  circular  button 
hole  in  the  garment,  and  a  gold  wire,  running 
along  beneath  the  silk,  held  the  jewels  in 
[79] 


AMOS     JUDD 

place,  so  that  by  drawing  out  the  wire  they 
were  all  detached." 

"Well,  where  was  the  economy  in  that?" 

"By  being  adjusted  and  removed  so  easily 
they  probably  served,  when  occasion  required, 
as  necklace,  belt,  bracelets,  earrings,  diadems, 
or  the  Lord  knows  what." 

"Of  course,"  assented  Mr.  Cabot.  "A  frugal 
device  that  might  be  of  service  to  other  farm 
ers.  And  you  began,  Sam,  by  describing  Dale- 
ford  as  an  uneventful  place.  It  seems  to  me 
that  Bagdad  is  nothing  to  it." 

Mr.  Fettiplace  sipped  his  coffee  without  re 
plying.  After  a  short  silence,  however,  with 
his  eyes  upon  the  coffee  which  he  stirred  in 
an  absent-minded  way,  he  continued: 

"There  are  one  or  two  other  things  con 
nected  with  Judd  which  are  much  more  diffi 
cult  to  explain.  Daleford  is  full  of  mysterious 
tales  of  supernatural  happenings  in  which  he 
is  the  hero  of  prophecies  and  extraordinary 
[  80] 


AMOS     JUDD 

fulfilments ;  always  incredible,  but  told  in  hon 
est  faith  by  practical,  hard-headed  people.  Any 
native  will  give  them  to  you  by  the  yard,  but 
the  hero,  under  no  conditions,  ever  alludes  to 
them  himself." 

"Which  probably  proves,"  said  Mr.  Cabot, 
"that  the  hero  is  the  only  one  to  be  relied 
on.  It  is  such  fun  to  believe  in  the  incredible! 
That  is  the  charm  of  miracles,  that  they  are 
impossible." 

The  rosy  guest  turned  to  the  daughter  with 
a  smile,  saying:  "And  there  is  nothing  like  a 
hard-headed  old  lawyer  to  drag  you  back  to 
earth." 

"What  were  these  tales,  Mr.  Fettiplace? 
What  did  they  refer  to?"  she  asked. 

But  Mr.  Fettiplace  evidently  felt  that  he 
had  said  enough,  possibly  because  a  portion 
of  his  audience  was  not  of  encouraging  ma 
terial,  for  he  only  answered  in  a  general 
way  that  the  stories  related  to  impossible 
[81  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

experiences,  and  were  probably  only  village 
gossip. 

After  dinner  they  sat  around  the  fire  in  the 
next  room,  the  two  men  with  their  cigars  and 
Molly  at  work  over  a  bit  of  tapestry  represent 
ing  the  Maid  of  Orleans  on  a  fat,  white  horse. 
This  horse,  according  to  her  father,  must  have 
belonged  to  a  Liverpool  circus,  and  was  loaned 
to  Joanna  for  tapestry  only.  When  Mr.  Judd 
appeared  Molly  felt  an  augmented  interest  in 
this  hero  of  the  white  jacket,  but  it  was  against 
both  conscience  and  judgment  and  in  spite  of 
a  pious  resolve  to  consider  him  simply  as  a 
libertine  with  a  murderous  temper.  That  her 
father  and  Mr.  Fettiplace  had  no  such  abhor 
rence  was  evident  from  their  cordial  greeting. 

The  conversation  became  general,  although 
the  burden  of  it  was  borne  by  Mr.  Fettiplace, 
who  seemed  to  possess  upon  every  subject 
either  some  interesting  facts  or  a  novel  theory. 
Once,  when  he  was  telling  them  something 
[  82] 


AMOS    JUDD 

so  amusing  that  it  seemed  safe  to  count  upon 
a  strict  attention  from  all  his  hearers,  she 
looked  over  at  Mr.  Judd  and  found  his  eyes 
fixed  earnestly  upon  her  face.  It  was  a  look 
so  serious,  of  such  infinite  melancholy  that, 
in  surprise,  her  own  glance  involuntarily  lin 
gered  for  a  second.  He  at  once  turned  his  eyes 
in  another  direction,  and  she  felt  angry  with 
herself  for  having  given  him  even  so  slight  a 
testimonial  of  her  interest.  Although  a  trivial 
episode,  it  served  to  increase  the  existing  hos 
tility  and  to  strengthen  an  heroic  resolve.  This 
resolve  was  to  impress  upon  him,  kindly  but 
clearly,  the  impossibility  of  a  serious  respect  on 
her  part  for  a  person  of  such  unenviable  repute. 
Later,  when  the  two  older  men  went  up  into 
the  library  to  settle  some  dispute  concerning 
a  date,  he  came  over  and  seated  himself  in  a 
chair  nearer  her  own,  but  also  facing  the  fire. 

"Your  ears  must  have  tingled  this  evening, 
Mr.  Judd." 

[  83  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Ah,  has  Mr.  Fettiplace  been  giving  me 
away?" 

"On  the  contrary;  he  is  a  stanch  friend  of 
yours." 

"Indeed  he  is,  but  it  might  require  an  ex 
ceedingly  skilful  friend  to  throw  a  favorable 
light  on  such  a  subject." 

"How  delightfully  modest!  I  assure  you  he 
gave  you  an  excellent  character." 

"Did  you  think  it  a  wilful  deception,  or 
that  he  was  simply  mistaken?" 

She  turned  and  saw  upon  his  face  an 
amused  smile,  half  triumphant  yet  good-hu 
mored.  She  lowered  her  eyes  to  the  bronze 
ornament  on  the  table  that  was  slowly  revolv 
ing  between  her  fingers.  "Am  I  so  incapable 
of  believing  good  of  others?" 

"  Certainly  not !  But  when  I  saw  you  last  I 

suffered  from  an  unpleasant  belief  that  neither 

the    Devil   nor   myself  were    objects    of  your 

adoration.  So  I  took  the  liberty  of  putting  one 

[84] 


AMOS     JUDD 

or  two  things  together,  and  decided  that  the 
faithful  Bennett  might  have  honored  me  by  a 
mention." 

"Why  suspect  Mr.  Bennett  of  such  a  thing?" 

"Well,  partly  because  he  is  a  vindictive  and 
unscrupulous  liar,  and  partly  because  he  is  the 
only  enemy  I  saw  there." 

This  was  said  gently,  in  his  usual  low 
voice,  with  perfect  calmness,  and  it  was  said 
amiably,  as  if  sympathizing  with  an  unfortu 
nate  friend. 

"You  seem  able  to  meet  him  on  his  own 
ground." 

"Oh,  no!  There  is  all  the  difference  in  the 
world." 

She  looked  toward  him  interrogatively,  but 
with  an  expression  that  plainly  indicated  a  dif 
ference  of  opinion.  He  continued  in  the  same 
tone,  with  no  sign  of  animosity:  "The  differ 
ence  is  this,  that  he  tells  others  what  he  never 
tells  me.  I  tell  others  his  mind  is  filthy  and  his 
[8.5] 


AMOS     JUDD 

spirit  is  mean;  that  he  is  without  honor  and 
that  he  is  a  liar,  but  I  also  tell  him." 

"You  have  told  him  that?" 

"Often:  sometimes  to  himself  alone,  some 
times  in  the  presence  of  others." 

She  could  not  restrain  a  smile.  "  It  must  be 
a  pleasant  thing  to  tell  a  man!" 

"A  man?  Oh,,  that  would  be  a  different  mat 
ter!  " 

There  was  a  barbaric  simplicity  in  all  this 
that  she  could  not  help  respecting,,  particularly 
as  she  felt  he  was  telling  the  truth:  and  she 
sympathized  with  him  heartily  in  this  opinion 
of  Horace  Bennett.  While  openly  unforgiving 
and  vindictive,  he  appeared  to  regard  his 
enemy  with  the  half-serious  contempt  of  a 
gentle  but  experienced  philosopher.  But  she 
remembered  her  resolution. 

"Mr.  Fettiplace  has  been  telling  us  about 
that  white  jacket.  What  an  interesting 
story!" 

[86] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Yes,  everything  he  tells  is  interesting.  He 
has  a  rare  faculty  in  that  direction." 

"But  in  this  case  he  had  an  unusual  subject. 
It  is  like  a  fairy  story.  I  suppose  you  wore  it 
some  time  or  other?" 

"I  suppose  so." 

"But  you  must  remember." 

"Vaguely.  I  was  only  seven  years  old  when 
I  came  to  this  country  arid  I  never  wore  it 
here." 

"Have  you  even  forgotten  how  you  spilled 
the  currant  jelly  down  the  front?" 

"Currant  jelly?"  he  repeated,  and  looked 
inquiringly  toward  her.  "I  have  not  heard  that 
theory." 

"You  were  the  culprit  and  ought  to  know. 
But  strawberry  is  just  as  bad,  I  suppose." 

After  a  slight  hesitation  he  answered, 
"Those  are  blood-stains." 

Turning  toward  him  for  further  information, 
she  could  not  help  thinking  how  much  more 
[87] 


AMOS     JUDD 

he  was  in  harmony  with  a  tale  of  pearls  and 
mystery  and  human  blood  than  with  jam  or 
currant  jelly.  As  he  made  110  answer  but  sat 
gazing  absently  at  the  fire,  she  expressed  a 
hope  that  his  youthful  nose  had  not  collided 
with  the  stairs  or  with  the  fist  of  some  larger 
boy. 

"No,  not  that  exactly/'  he  replied,  with  his 
eyes  still  upon  the  fire.  "It  is  a  long  story  and 
would  not  interest  you."  Then  looking  up,  he 
continued,  with  more  animation,  "I  am  glad 
there  is  a  possibility  of  your  coming  to  Dale- 
ford.  It  is  an  ideal  place  to  be  quiet  in." 

"So  Mr.  Fettiplace  tells  us,  but  you  are 
mistaken  about  the  history  of  the  jacket.  It 
would  interest  me,  and  I  should  like  extremely 
to  hear  it;  unless  of  course  you  prefer  not  to 
tell  it." 

"If  you  wish  to  hear  it  that  is  reason  enough 
for  the  telling,  but — isn't  it  rather  cruel  to 
force  a  man  to  talk  only  about  himself?" 
[88] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"No;  not  in  this  case.  It  gives  an  opportu 
nity  to  prove,  by  the  perfection  of  your  boy 
hood,  that  you  are  less  vile  than  you  believe 
Horace  Bennett  to  have  painted  you." 

"That  would  be  impossible.  No  human  rec 
ord  could  wipe  out  an  effect  once  laid  in  by 
such  a  hand.  Besides,  there  is  nothing  in  the 
jacket  to  repair  a  damaged  reputation." 

"The  fact  of  telling  the  story  will  count  in 
your  favor." 

"In  that  case  I  will  make  an  effort."  He 
rested  an  elbow  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  slowly 
stroking  the  back  of  his  head  as  if  uncertain 
where  to  begin.  "  It  is  really  a  foolish  thing  to 
do,"  he  said  at  last,  "but  if  you  are  relentless 
I  suppose  there  is  no  escape.  In  the  first  place, 
to  begin  at  the  very  beginning,  there  was  a 
little  court  with  arches  all  around  it,  with 
grass  in  the  centre  and  a  fountain  at  each 
corner.  On  the  marble  steps,  at  one  end,  we 
were  all  sitting,  a  dozen  or  more  children, 


AMOS     JUDD 

watching  a  man  with  a  bear  and  two  mon 
keys.  These  monkeys  had  sham  fights.  One 
was  dressed  like  an  English  soldier  with  a 
red  jacket,  and  he  always  got  the  worst  of  it. 
It  was  great  fun  and  we  all  laughed." 

"Where  was  this?" 

"In  India.  At  the  very  beginning  of  the 
show,  when  the  English  monkey  for  a  mo 
ment  was  on  top,  a  servant  rushed  into  the 
court  and  dragged  me  away.  It  was  a  barbar 
ous  deed,  and  I  was  ugly;  as  disagreeable  prob 
ably  as  Horace  Bennett  could  have  wished. 
So  I  only  lose  ground,  you  see,  by  telling  this 
story." 

"Never  mind.  Unless  you  tell  it  I  shall  be 
lieve  the  worst." 

"Well,  looking  back  as  I  was  dragged  along, 
the  last  thing  I  saw  was  the  red  monkey  being 
chased  and  beaten  by  the  white  one,  and  they 
scrambled  right  up  the  bear's  back.  In  the 
chamber  where  we  went  that  white  jacket  was 
[90] 


AMOS     JUDD 

brought  out  and  I  made  another  row,  for  I 
knew  it  meant  a  long  and  tiresome  perform 
ance  in  wrhich  I  had  to  keep  still  and  behave 
myself." 

"A  performance  on  a  stage?" 

"No;  in  a  large  room,  with  lots  of  people 
standing  about.  As  our  procession  started  for 
the  big  hall,  which  was  several  rooms  away  on 
another  side  of  the  house,  I  noticed  that  my 
uncle  and  one  or  two  others  kept  closer  to  me 
than  usual.  There  was  a  tremendous  haste  and 
confusion,  and  everybody  seemed  excited." 

In  telling  his  story  Mr.  Judd  spoke  in  a  low 
voice,  pronouncing  his  words  clearly  and  with 
a  certain  precision.  His  only  gesture  consisted 
in  occasionally  drawing  a  hand  slowly  up  the 
back  of  his  head,  as  if  finding  solace  in  rub 
bing  the  short  thick  hair  in  the  wrong  direc 
tion.  Although  his  voice  and  manner  suggested 
an  indolent  repose,  she  noticed  that  the  brown 
hands,  with  their  long  fingers,  were  hard  and 
[91  ] 


AMOS     J  U  I)  D 

muscular,  and  were  the  hands  of  a  nervous 
temperament. 

"When  we  entered  the  large  hall  there 
were  lots  of  people.,  mostly  soldiers,,  and  in 
uniforms  I  had  not  seen  before.  The  principal 
person  seemed  to  be  a  short,,  thick-set  man 
with  a  round  face  and  big  eyes,  who  stood  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  and  his  wide  sash 
and  odd-looking  turban  with  gold  scales  in 
terested  me  tremendously.  We  all  stood  there 
a  few  minutes  and  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
talk  about  something,  when  all  of  a  sudden 
this  man  with  the  handsome  turban  seized 
me  under  the  arms  with  both  hands,  lifted  me 
up,  and  handed  me  to  a  big  chap  behind  him. 

"Then  came  a  free  fight,  a  general  commo 
tion,  with  shouting  and  rushing  about,  and 
sword-blades  in  the  air.  A  friend  tried  to  pull 
me  away,  but  the  big  man  who  held  me  laid 
his  head  open  with  a  blow.  A  second  later  the 
big  man  himself  received  a  cut  from  my  uncle 
[92] 


AMOS     JUDD 

at  the  base  of  his  neck,  where  it  joins  the 
shoulder,,  that  made  him  stagger  and  turn  half 
about:  then  he  tumbled  to  the  floor  and  held 
me  all  the  tighter  as  he  fell.  As  we  landed 
I  came  on  top,  but  he  rolled  over  and  lay 
across  me  with  his  head  on  my  stomach.  He 
was  so  heavy  that  he  held  me  down  and  the 
blood  poured  from  his  neck  over  my  white 
clothes." 

Molly  had  stopped  working.  With  her 
hands  in  her  lap  and  her  eyes  fixed  eagerly 
on  his  face,  she  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
horror.  He  said,  with  a  smile: 

"Not  a  cheerful  story,  is  it?" 

"It  is  awful!  But  what  happened  then?" 

"Well,  as  I  struggled  to  get  from  under 
I  saw  my  uncle  turn  upon  the  first  man,  the 
leader,  but  he  was  too  late.  Someone  gave 
him  a  thrust,  and  he  staggered  and  came 
down  beside  us.  I  remember  he  lay  so  near 
that  I  reached  out  and  touched  his  cheek 
[93] 


AMOS     JUDD 

with  my  finger.  I  spoke  to  him,,  but  he  never 
answered." 

There  was  a  silence,  she  watching  him, 
waiting  for  the  rest  of  the  story,  while  he 
gazed  silently  into  the  fire. 

"And  what  happened  next?" 

"Oh,  excuse  me!  That  is  about  all.  Dur 
ing  the  hubbub  and  slaughter  my  people 
hauled  me  from  beneath  the  big  chap  and 
I  was  hurried  away.  I  remember,  as  we  ran 
through  the  chambers  near  the  little  court, 
I  heard  my  friends  still  laughing  at  the 
monkeys." 

He  seemed  to  consider  the  story  finished. 
"May  I  fool  with  that  fire?"  he  asked. 

"Certainly,  but  what  was  all  the  fighting 
about?" 

As  the  fire  was  encouraged  into  a  fresher 

life  he    answered:   "I  never  knew  distinctly. 

That   night   a    few    others    and   myself  went 

down  to  the  river,  through  the  gardens,  were 

[94] 


AMOS    JUDD 

rowed  to  a  little  steamer  and  taken  aboard. 
We  sailed  down  a  long  river,,  and  afterward 
a  big  steamer  brought  three  of  us  to  America. 
And  then  to  Daleford." 

"Why  on  earth  to  Daleford?" 

"Because  it  was  desirable  to  land  me  in 
some  amusing  metropolis,,  and  I  suppose  the 
choice  lay  between  Paris  and  Daleford.  Dale- 
ford,,  of  course,,  won." 

"I  beg  your  pardon/'  she  hastened  to 
say.  "My  curiosity  seems  to  be  running  away 
with  me." 

"Oh,  please  do  not  apologize.  There  is  no 
secret  about  Daleford.  I  only  answrered  in 
that  wray  as  I  suddenly  realized  ho\v  refresh 
ing  it  must  be  to  hear  a  stranger  tell  pathetic 
stories  about  himself.  It  is  I  who  apologize. 
They  brought  me  to  Daleford  through  Mr. 
Judd's  brother,  who  was  a  good  friend  and 
was  writh  us  at  that  row." 

He  stood  before  the  fire  with  the  poker  in 
[95] 


AMOS     JUDD 

his  hand,  and  looked  down  with  a  smile  as  he 
continued:  "I  believe  you  have  never  been  to 
Daleford,  but  if  you  were  a  field-mouse  that 
could  sleep  all  winter,  and  didn't  care  to  be 
disturbed  in  summer,  you  would  find  it  an 
ideal  spot.  If  you  were  a  field-mouse  of  aver 
age  social  instincts  you  would  never  pull 
through." 

"And  yet  Mr.  Fettiplace  advises  us  to  go 
there." 

"Oh,  that's  for  a  summer  only,  and  is 
quite  different." 

From  Daleford  they  went  to  other  sub 
jects,  but  to  her  his  own  career  proved  of  far 
greater  interest,  and  the  usual  topics  seemed 
commonplace  and  uneventful  by  comparison. 
Delicately  and  with  subtle  tact,  she  made  one 
or  two  efforts  to  get  further  information 
regarding  his  childhood  and  the  fabulous 
jewels,  but  her  endeavors  were  vain.  Of 
himself  he  talked  no  more.  In  a  sense,  how- 
[96] 


AMOS     JUDD 

ever,  she  was  rewarded  by  a  somewhat  sur 
prising  discovery  in  relation  to  his  mental 
furniture.  When  the  conversation  turned  in 
cidentally  upon  literature  she  found  him  in 
the  enjoyment  of  an  ignorance  so  vast  and 
so  comprehensive  that  it  caused  her,  at  first, 
to  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  own  self-con 
viction.  Of  her  favorite  books  he  had  not 
read  one.  To  him  the  standard  novelists  were 
but  names.  Of  their  works  he  knew  nothing. 
This  ignorance  he  confessed  cheerfully  and 
without  shame. 

"But  what  do  you  do  with  yourself?" 
she  demanded.  "Do  you  never  read  any 
thing?" 

"Oh,  yes;  I  have  not  forgotten  my  letters. 
For  modern  facts  I  read  the  papers,  and  for 
the  other  side  of  life  I  take  poetry.  But  the 
modern  novel  is  too  severe  a  punishment.  It 
is  neither  poetry  nor  wisdom." 

Until  the  two  other  men  came  down  from 
[97] 


AMOS     JUDD 

the  library  she  had  no  idea  of  the  lateness 
of  the  hour.  Mr.  Fettiplace  laid  a  hand  on 
the  young  man's  shoulder  and,  with  a  roseate 
smile,  explained  the  situation. 

"This  fellow  is  from  the  country,  Miss  Molly, 
and  you  must  excuse  him  for  expecting,  when 
invited  out  to  dinner,  that  he  is  to  remain  to 
breakfast." 

A  moment  or  two  later,  as  the  three  men 
were  standing  before  the  fire,  she  was  aston 
ished  by  a  bit  of  unexpected  wisdom.  He  was 
regarding  with  apparent  interest  a  little  etch 
ing  that  hung  near  the  mantel,  when  Mr. 
Cabot  explained  that  it  was  a  very  old  one  he 
had  purchased  in  Germany,  and  represented 
the  battle  of  Hennersdorf.  Mr.  Judd  thought 
it  must  be  the  battle  of  Mollwitz,  and  gave  as 
reasons  for  his  belief  the  position  of  the  Prus 
sians  in  relation  to  a  certain  hill  and  the  re 
treat  of  the  Austrian  cavalry  at  that  stage  of 
the  fight.  Mr.  Cabot,  obviously  surprised  at 
[98] 


AMOS     JUDD 

these    details,  replied,  jokingly,   that   he  was 
not  in  a  position  to  contradict  a  soldier  who 

was  present  at  the  battle. 
• 

This  afforded  great  amusement  to  the  rubi 
cund  guest,  who  exclaimed  : 

"You  might  as  well  back  right  down,  Jim! 
Amos  is  simply  a  walking  cyclopaedia  of  military 
facts;  and  not  a  condensed  one  either!  He  can 
give  you  more  reliable  details  of  that  battle 
than  Frederick  himself,  and  of  every  other 
battle  that  has  ever  been  fought,  from  Rame- 
ses  to  U.  S.  Grant.  He  remembers  everything; 
why  the  victors  were  victorious  and  how  the 
defeated  might  have  won.  I  believe  he  sleeps 
and  eats  with  the  great  conquerors.  You  ought 
to  see  his  library.  It  is  a  gallery  of  slaughter, 
containing  nothing  but  records  of  carnage  — 
and  poetry.  Nothing  interests  him  like  blood 
and  verses.  Just  think,"  he  continued,  turning 
to  Molly,  "just  think  of  wasting  your  life  in 
the  nineteenth  century  when  you  feel  that 


AMOS     JUDD 

you  possess  a  magnificent  genius  for  wholesale 
murder  that  can  never  have  a  show!" 

There  was  more  bantering,  especially  be 
tween  the  older  men,  a  promise  to  visit  Dale- 
ford,  and  the  two  guests  departed. 


100 


IV 

IN  April  the  Cabots  took  their  trip  to  Dale- 
ford  and  found  it  even  more  inviting  than 
Mr.  Fettiplace  had  promised.  The  spacious 
house  among  the  elms,  with  its  quaint  old 
flower-garden,  the  air,  the  hills,  the  restful 
beauty  of  the  country,  were  temptations  not  to 
be  resisted,  and  within  another  month  they 
were  comfortably  adjusted  and  felt  at  home. 

The  house,  which  had  formerly  belonged  to 
Mr.  Morton  Judd,  stood  several  hundred  feet 
from  the  road  at  the  end  of  an  avenue  of  wide- 
spreading  maples.  This  avenue  was  the  con 
tinuation  of  another  and  a  similar  avenue  ex 
tending  to  the  house  of  Josiah  Judd,  directly 
opposite,  and  the  same  distance  from  the  high 
way.  As  you  stood  at  either  end  it  was  an  un 
broken  arch  from  one  residence  to  the  other. 
When  Mr.  Morton  Judd  was  married,  some  fifty 
years  ago,  his  father  had  erected  this  abode 


AM  OS     J  U  D  D 

for  him,  but  the  young  man  soon  after  went 
to  India,  where  as  a  merchant  and  a  financier 
he  achieved  success,  and  where  both  he  and 
his  wife  now  lay  at  rest.  Although  covering 
as  much  ground,  the  house  was  less  imposing 
than  the  more  venerable  mansion  at  the  other 
end  of  the  avenue. 

The  journey  beneath  the  maples  proved 
such  a  pleasant  one  and  was  so  easily  made 
as  to  invite  a  certain  familiarity  of  intercourse 
that  the  Cabots  saw  no  good  reason  to  discour 
age.  Mrs.  Judd,  a  strong-framed  woman  with  a 
heavy  chin,  whose  failing  memory  seemed  her 
only  weakness,  was  now  about  eighty  years  of 
age,  and  generally  sat  by  a  sunny  window  in 
the  big  dining-room,  where  she  rocked  and 
knitted  from  morning  till  night,  paying  little 
attention  to  what  went  on  about  her.  If  Amos 
had  been  her  own  son  she  could  not  have 
loved  him  more,  and  this  affection  was  re 
turned  in  full  with  an  unceasing  thoughtful- 
[  108  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

ness  and  care.  Both  Molly  and  her  father  were 
gratified  at  finding  in  this  young  man  a  neigh 
bor  whose  society  it  seemed  safe  to  encourage. 
He  proved  a  sensible,  unpretending  person, 
fond  of  fun  and  pleasure,  but  with  plenty  of 
convictions;  these  convictions,  however,  while 
a  source  of  amusement  to  Mr.  Cabot,  were  not 
always  accepted  by  the  daughter.  They  were 
often  startling  departures  from  his  education 
and  environment,  and  showed  little  respect  for 
conventionalities.  He  never  attended  church, 
but  owned  a  pew  in  each  of  the  five  temples 
at  Daleford,  and  to  each  of  these  societies  he 
wras  a  constant  and  liberal  contributor.  For 
three  of  them  he  had  given  parsonages  that 
were  ornaments  to  the  village,  and  as  the  sec 
tarian  spirit  in  that  locality  was  alive  and  hot 
these  generous  gifts  had  produced  alternat 
ing  outbursts  of  thankfulness  and  rage,  all  of 
which  apparently  caused  neither  surprise  nor 
annoyance  to  the  young  philosopher.  When 


AMOS     JUDD 

Molly  Cabot  told  him,  after  learning  this,  that 
it  would  indicate  a  more  serious  Christian 
spirit  if  he  paid  for  but  a  single  pew  and  sat 
in  it,  he  answered: 

"But  that  spirit  is  just  the  evil  I  try  to  es 
cape,  for  your  good  Christian  is  a  hot  sectarian. 
It  is  the  one  thing  in  his  religion  he  will  fight 
and  die  for,  and  it  seems  to  me  the  one  thing 
he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of.  If  any  one  sect  is 
right  and  the  others  wrong  it  is  all  a  hideous 
joke  on  the  majority,  and  a  proper  respect  for 
the  Creator  prevents  my  believing  in  any  such 
favoritism." 

Occasionally  the  memory  of  his  offensive 
title  obtruded  itself  as  a  bar  to  that  confi 
dence  which  is  the  foundation  of  friendship, 
but  as  she  knew  him  better  it  became  more 
difficult  to  believe  that  he  could  ever  have 
been,  in  its  coarser  sense,  what  that  title  sig 
nified.  As  regarded  herself,  there  was  never 
on  his  part  the  faintest  suggestion  of  anything 
[  104  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

that  could  be  interpreted  as  love-making,  or 
even  as  the  mildest  attempt  at  a  flirtation. 
She  found  him  under  all  conditions  simple 
and  unassuming,  and,  she  was  forced  to  ad 
mit,  with  no  visible  tokens  of  that  personal 
vanity  with  which  she  had  so  lavishly  en 
dowed  him.  His  serious  business  in  life  was 
the  management  of  the  Judd  farm,  and  al 
though  the  care  and  development  of  his  ani 
mals  was  more  of  a  recreation  than  a  rigid 
necessity  he  wasted  little  money  in  unsuc 
cessful  experiments.  Mr.  Cabot  soon  discov 
ered  that  he  was  far  more  practical  and  busi 
ness-like  than  his  leisurely  manners  seemed 
to  indicate.  The  fondness  for  animals  that 
seemed  one  of  his  strongest  characteristics 
was  more  an  innate  affection  than  a  breeder's 
fancy.  Every  animal  011  his  place,  from  the 
thoroughbred  horses  to  the  last  litter  of  pups, 
he  regarded  more  as  personal  friends  than  as 
objects  of  commercial  value. 
[  105  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

When  Mr.  Cabot  and  Molly  made  their  first 
visit  to  the  farm,  they  noticed  in  the  corner 
of  a  field  a  number  of  dejected  horses  huddled 
solemnly  together.  Most  of  them  were  well 
beyond  middle  age  and  bore  the  clearest  in 
dications  of  a  future  that  was  devoid  of  prom 
ise.  They  gazed  at  the  visitors  with  listless 
eyes,  and  as  a  congregation  seemed  burdened 
with  most  of  the  physical  imperfections  of  ex 
treme  antiquity. 

"What  on  earth  are  those?"  asked  Mr. 
Cabot.  "Revolutionary  relics?  They  are  too 
fat  for  invalids." 

"A  few  friends  of  my  youth." 

"I  should  think  from  the  number  you 
have  here  that  you  never  disposed  of  your 
old  friends/'  said  Mr.  Cabot. 

"Only  when  life  is  a  burden." 

"Well,  I  am  glad  to  see  them/'  said  Molly, 
as  she  patted  one  or  two  of  the  noses  that 
were  thrust  toward  her.  "It  does  you  credit. 
[  106] 


AMOS     J  U  D  D 

I  think  it  is  horrid  to  sell  a  horse  that  has 
used  himself  up  in  your  service." 

As  the  father  and  daughter  walked  home 
ward  along  the  avenue  of  maples,,  Mr.  Cabot 
spoke  of  the  pleasure  the  young  man  derived 
from  his  animals,  and  the  good  sense  he  dis 
played  in  the  management  of  his  farm. 

"Yes/'  said  Molly,  "and  he  seems  too  boy 
ish  and  full  of  fun  for  anything  very  weird 
or  uncanny.  But  Mr.  Fettiplace  certainly  be 
lieved  in  something  of  that  kind,  didn't  he?" 

"Of  course,  or  he  would  n't  be  Fettiplace. 
That  sort  of  thing  is  always  interesting,  and 
the  world  is  full  of  people  who  can  believe 
anything  if  they  once  put  their  minds  on  it. 
Who  is  that  in  our  yard?" 

"Deacon  White,  I  think.  He  has  come  to 
train  up  some  plants  for  me."  A  moment  later 
she  took  her  father's  arm  and  asked,  with  af 
fected  humility:  "Jinisey,  will  you  do  some 
thing?" 

r  107 1 


AMOS    JUDD 

"No,  for  it's  sure  to  be  foolish." 

"Well,  you  are  right,  but  you  can  do  it  so 
much  better  than  I.  Deacon  White  has  prob 
ably  known  Mr.  Judd  ever  since  he  was  a  little 
boy,  and  he  would  be  glad  of  an  opportunity 
to  tell  what  he  knows  and  give  us  all  the 
town  talk  besides.  I  do  wish  you  would  just 
start  him  off." 

"Start  him  off!  On  what?  Judd's  private 
history?  On  the  delicate  matters  he  doesn't 
wish  advertised?" 

"No,  not  Of  course  not,  papa!  How  un 
pleasant  you  are!  I  only  want  him  to  throw 
some  light  on  the  mysterious  things  Mr.  Fetti- 
place  alluded  to." 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  If  you 
really  have  a  thirst  for  that  sort  of  knowl 
edge,  get  a  copy  of  Hans  Andersen.  He  has 
a  better  style  than  Deacon  White." 

A  few  moments  later,  when  Molly  and  the 
Deacon  were  alone  in  the  old  garden,  her  de- 
[  108  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

sire  for  information  was  gratified  to  an  un 
hoped-for  extent,  and  the  information  was 
of  a  more  detailed  and  astonishing  character 
than  she  would  have  presumed  to  ask  for. 
The  Deacon,  a  little,  round-shouldered,  nar 
row-chested  man  of  seventy,  with  a  sun-dried 
face,  an  enormous  nose,  and  a  long  receding 
chin  with  a  white  beard  beneath,  possessed 
a  pair  of  wide-awake  eyes  that  seemed  many 
years  younger  than  himself. 

"I  never  have  anything  to  do  with  roses 
without  thinkin'  of  Amos.  Did  you  ever  no 
tice  his?" 

"Yes;  they  are  splendid  ones." 

" Ain't  they!  Well,  one  mornin',  when  he 
was  a  little  boy,  I  was  helpin'  him  set  out 
roses  along  the  side  of  the  house  wrhere  the 
big  trellis  is,  and  he  said  he  wanted  red  ones, 
not  yellow  ones.  I  said:  ' These  are  red  ones. 
They  are  cut  from  the  same  slip  as  the  others, 
and  they've  got  to  be  red  whether  they  want 
[  109  ] 


AMOS     J  U  D  D 

to  or  not.'  Pretty  soon  Josiah  came  out,  and 
Amos  said  to  him  that  he  could  see  'em  next 
spring  and  they  would  all  be  yellow.  And 
what  took  me  all  aback  was  that  Josiah  be 
lieved  it,  and  tried  to  persuade  him  that  he 
might  like  yellow  ones  for  a  change.  And  I 
tell  you/'  said  the  Deacon,,  as  he  fixed  his 
little  young  eyes  on  her  face  to  watch  his 
effect,  "I  just  stood  with  my  mouth  open  one 
mornin',  a  year  after,  when  I  saw  those  roses, 
that  oughter  been  red,  just  come  out  into  a 
yeller.  Of  course  it  was  a  mistake  in  the 
bushes,  but  how  did  he  know?" 

"It  might  have  been  a  coincidence." 
"Yes,  it  might  have  been  a  coincidence. 
But  when  a  boy's  life  is  made  up  of  just  those 
things  you  begin  to  suspect  after  a  while  that 
perhaps  they  are  too  everlastingly  reliable  for 
coincidences.  You  can't  always  bet  on  coinci 
dences,  but  you  can  bet  every  time  on  Amos. 
My  daughter  Phoebe  kept  school  down  in  the 


AMOS     JUDD 

village  for  a  spell  when  Amos  was  about  ten 
years  old.  There  was  another  boy.,  Billy  Hines,, 
who  never  missed  a  lesson.  Phoebe  knew  he 
was  a  dull  boy  and  that  he  always  tried  to 
give  larniii'  the  whole  road  whenever  he  saw 
it  comin',  and  it  kinder  surprised  her  to  have 
him  stand  at  the  head  of  his  class  all  the  time 
and  make  better  recitations  than  smarter  boys 
who  worked  hard.  But  he  always  knewT  every 
thing  and  never  missed  a  question.  He  and 
Amos  were  great  friends,  more  because  Amos 
felt  sorry  for  him,  I  guess,  than  anything  else. 
Billy  used  to  stand  up  and  shine  every  day, 
when  she  knew  mighty  w^ell  he  was  the  slow 
est  chap  in  the  whole  school  and  hadn't  stud 
ied  his  lessons  neither.  Well,  one  day  Amos 
got  hove  about  twenty  feet  by  a  colt  he  was 
tryin'  to  ride  and  he  stayed  in  bed  a  few 
weeks.  Durin'  that  time  Billy  Hines  couldn't 
answer  a  question.  Not  a  question.  He  and 
arithmetic  were  strangers.  Also  geography, 


AMOS    J  UDD 

history,  and  everything  else  that  he  'd  been 
intimate  with.  He  jest  stopped  shinin',  like  a 
candle  with  a  stopper  on  it.  The  amount  of  it 
was  she  found  that  Amos  had  always  told  him 
ahead  the  questions  he  was  goin'  to  be  asked,, 
and  Billy  learned  the  answers  just  before  he 
stood  up  to  recite." 

"Why,  how  did  Amos  —  how  did  Mr.  Judd 
know  what  questions  would  be  asked?" 

"I  guess  'twas  just  a  series  of  coincidences 
that  happened  to  last  all  winter." 

Molly  laughed.  "  How  unforgiving  you  are, 
Mr.  White!  But  did  Amos  Judd  explain  it?" 

"He  didn't.  He  was  too  young  then  to  do  it 
to  anybody's  satisfaction,  and  now  that  he  's 
older  he  won't." 

"Why  not?" 

"Well,  he  's  kind  of  sensitive  about  it.  Never 
talks  of  those  things,  and  don't  like  to  have 
other  folks." 

Molly  stood  looking  over  toward  the  Judd 
[112] 


AMOS     JUDD 

house,  wondering  how  much  of  the  Deacon's 
tale  was  truth,  and  how  much  was  village  gos 
sip  exaggerated  by  repetition. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  about  Josiah's  death?" 

Molly  shook  her  head. 

"'Twas  to  him  that  Amos  was  fetched  from 
India.  One  mornin'  Josiah  and  I  were  standin' 
in  the  doorway  of  his  barn  talkin'.  The  old 
barn  used  to  be  closer  to  the  house,  but  Amos 
tore  it  down  after  he  built  that  big  new  one. 
Josiah  and  I  stood  in  the  doorway  talkin'  about 
a  new  yoke  of  oxen;  nothin'  excitin',  for  there 
was  n't  any  cause  for  it.  We  stood  in  the  door 
way,  both  facin'  out,  when  Josiah,  without 
givin'  any  notice,  sort  of  pitched  forward  and 
fell  face  down  in  the  snow.  I  turned  him  over 
and  tried  to  lift  him  up,  but  when  I  saw  his 
face  I  wras  scared.  Just  at  that  particular  min 
ute  the  doctor,  with  Amos  sittin'  in  the  sleigh 
beside  him,  drove  into  the  avenue  and  hurried 
along  as  if  he  knew  there  was  trouble.  We 


AMOS     JUDD 

carried  Josiah  into  the  house,  but  't  wa'n't  any 
use.  He  was  dead  before  we  got  him  there. 
It  was  heart  disease.  At  the  funeral  I  said  to 
the  doctor  it  was  lucky  he  happened  along- 
just  then,  even  if  he  couldn't  save  him,  and 
I  found  there  was  no  happen  about  it;  that 
Amos  had  run  to  his  house  just  as  he  was  start 
ing  off  somewheres  else,  and  told  him  Josiah 
was  dyin'  and  to  get  there  as  fast  as  he  could." 

" That's  very  strange,"  Molly  said,  in  a  low 
voice.  She  had  listened  to  this  story  with  a 
feeling  of  awe,  for  she  believed  the  Deacon  to 
be  a  truthful  man,  and  this  was  an  experience 
of  his  own.  "This  mysterious  faculty,"  she  said, 
"whatever  it  was,  did  he  realize  it  fully  him 
self?" 

"I  guess  he  did!"  and  the  Deacon  chuckled 
as  he  went  on  with  his  work.  "  And  he  used  to 
play  tricks  with  it.  I  tell  you  he  was  a  handful." 

"Did  you  say  he  lost  it  as  he  grew  up?" 

The  Deacon  turned  about  and  answered,  in 
[114] 


AMOS     J  U D  D 

a  serious  tone:  "No.  But  he  wants  folks  to 
think  so.  All  the  same,  there  's  something  be 
tween  Amos  and  the  Almighty  that  the  rest 
of  us  ain't  into." 

One  Monday  morning,  toward  the  last  of 
June,  Molly  left  Daleford  for  a  two  weeks' 
visit  at  the  seashore.  Her  absence  caused  a 
void  that  extended  from  the  Cabot  household 
over  to  the  big  white  mansion  at  the  further 
end  of  the  maples.  This  emptiness  and  desola 
tion  drove  the  young  man  to  frequent  visits 
upon  Mr.  Cabot,  who,  in  his  turn,  found  a 
pleasant  relief  in  the  companionship  of  his 
neighbor,  and  he  had  no  suspicion  of  the  sol 
ace  this  visitor  derived  from  sitting  upon  the 
piazza  so  lately  honored  by  the  absent  girl. 
The  eminent  lawyer  was  not  aware  that  he 
himself,  apart  from  all  personal  merit,  was  the 
object  of  an  ardent  affection  from  his  relation 
ship  to  his  own  daughter.  For  the  first  twenty- 
four  hours  the  two  disconsolates  kept  in  their 
[  "3  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

own  preserves  to  a  reasonable  extent,  but  on 
Tuesday  they  took  a  fishing  trip,  followed  in 
the  evening  by  a  long  talk  on  the  Cabot  piazza. 
During  this  conversation  the  lawyer  realized 
more  fully  than  ever  the  courageous  ignorance 
of  his  neighbor  in  all  matters  that  had  failed 
to  interest  him.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was 
impressed  by  the  young  man's  clear,  compre 
hensive,  and  detailed  knowledge  upon  certain 
unfamiliar  subjects.  In  spite  of  his  college  edu 
cation  and  a  very  considerable  knowledge  of 
the  world  he  was,  mentally,  something  of  a 
spoiled  child;  yet  from  his  good  sense,  origi 
nality,  and  moral  courage  he  was  always  inter 
esting. 

Wednesday,  the  third  day,  brought  a  north 
east  gale  that  swept  the  hills  and  valleys  of 
Daleford  with  a  drenching  rain.  Trees,  bushes, 
flowers,  and  blades  of  grass  dripping  with 
water,  bent  and  quivered  before  the  wind.  Mr. 
Cabot  spent  the  morning  among  his  books 
[116] 


AMOS     JUDD 

and  papers,,  writing  letters  and  doing  some 
work  which  the  pleasant  weather  had  caused 
him  to  defer.  For  such  labors  this  day  seemed 
especially  designed.  In  the  afternoon,  about  two 
o'clock,  he  stood  looking  out  upon  the  storm 
from  his  library  window,  which  was  at  the  cor 
ner  of  the  house  and  commanded  the  long 
avenue  toward  the  road.  The  tempest  seemed 
to  rage  more  viciously  than  ever.  Bounding 
across  the  country  in  sheets  of  blinding  rain, 
it  beat  savagely  against  the  glass,  then  poured 
in  unceasing  torrents  down  the  wTindow-panes. 
The  ground  was  soaked  and  spongy  with  tem 
pestuous  little  puddles  in  every  hollow  of  the 
surface.  In  the  distance,  under  the  tossing 
maples,  he  espied  a  figure  coming  along  the 
driveway  in  a  waterproof  and  rubber  boots. 
He  recognized  Amos,  his  head  to  one  side  to 
keep  his  hat  on,  gently  trotting  before  the 
gale,  as  the  mighty  force  against  his  back  ren 
dered  a  certain  degree  of  speed  perfunctory. 


AMOS     JUDD 

Mr.  Cabot  had  begun  to  weary  of  solitude,  and 
saw  with  satisfaction  that  Amos  crossed  the 
road  and  continued  along  the  avenue.  Beneath 
his  waterproof  was  something  large  and  bulg 
ing,  of  which  he  seemed  very  careful.  With  a 
smiling  salutation  he  splashed  by  the  window 
toward  the  side  door,  laid  off  his  outer  coat  and 
wiped  his  ponderous  boots  in  the  hall,  then 
came  into  the  library  bearing  an  enormous 
bunch  of  magnificent  yellow  roses.  Mr.  Cabot 
recognized  them  as  coming  from  a  bush  in 
which  its  owner  took  the  greatest  pride,  and 
in  a  moment  their  fragrance  filled  the  room. 
"What  beauties!"  he  exclaimed.  "But  are 
you  sure  they  are  for  me?" 

"If  she  decides  to  give  them  to  you,  sir." 
"She?  Who?  Bridget  or  Maggie?" 
"Neither.   They  belong  to  the  lady  who  is 
now  absent;  whose  soul  is  the  Flower  of  Truth, 
and  whose  beauty  is  the  Glory  of  the  Morn 
ing."   Then  he  added,  with  a  gesture  of  hu- 


AMOS     JUDD 

mility,  "That  is,  of  course,  if  she  will  deign 
to  accept  them." 

"But,  my  well-meaning  young  friend,  were 
you  gifted  with  less  poetry  and  more  experi 
ence  you  would  know  that  these  roses  will  be 
faded  and  decaying  memories  long  before  the 
recipient  returns.  And  you  a  farmer!" 

Amos  looked  at  the  clock.  "You  seem  to 
have  precious  little  confidence  in  my  flowers, 
sir.  They  are  good  for  three  hours,  I  think." 

"Three  hours!  Yes,  but  to-day  is  Wednes 
day  and  it  is  many  times  three  hours  before 
next  Monday  afternoon." 

A  look  of  such  complete  surprise  came 
into  Amos's  face  that  Mr.  Cabot  smiled  as  he 
asked,  "Didn't  you  know  her  visit  was  to  last 
a  fortnight?" 

The   young  man  made   no  answer  to   this, 

but  looked  first  at  his  questioner  and  then  at 

his  roses  with  an  air  that  struck  Mr.  Cabot  at 

the  moment  as  one  of  embarrassment.  As  he 

[  "9] 


AMOS     JUDD 

recalled  it  afterward,  however,  he  gave  it  a  dif 
ferent  significance.  With  his  eyes  still  on  the 
flowers  Amos,  in  a  lower  voice,  said,  <e Don't 
you  know  that  she  is  coming  to-day?" 

"No.   Do  you?" 

The  idea  of  a  secret  correspondence  between 
these  two  was  not  a  pleasant  surprise;  and  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  successfully  kept  in  igno 
rance  of  an  event  of  such  importance  irritated 
him  more  than  he  cared  to  show.  He  asked, 
somewhat  dryly:  "Have  you  heard  from  her?" 

"No,  sir,  not  a  word,"  and  as  their  eyes 
met  Mr.  Cabot  felt  it  was  a  truthful  answer. 

"Then  why  do  you  think  she  is  coming?" 

Amos  looked  at  the  clock  and  then  at  his 
watch.  "Has  no  one  gone  to  the  station  for 
her?" 

"No  one,"  replied  Mr.  Cabot,  as  he  turned 
away  and  seated  himself  at  his  desk.  "Why 
should  they?" 

Then,  in  a  tone  which  struck  its  hearer  as 


AMOS     JUDD 

being  somewhat  more  melancholy  than  the  sit 
uation  demanded,  the  young  man  replied:  "I 
will  explain  all  this  to-morrow,  or  whenever 
you  wish,  Mr.  Cabot.  It  is  a  long  story,,  but  if 
she  does  come  to-day  she  will  be  at  the  station 
in  about  fifty  minutes.  You  know  what  sort  of  a 
vehicle  the  stage  is.  May  I  drive  over  for  her?" 

" Certainly,  if  you  wish." 

The  young  man  lingered  a  moment  as  if 
there  was  something  more  he  wished  to  add, 
but  left  the  room  without  saying  it.  A  min 
ute  later  he  was  running  as  fast  as  the  gale 
would  let  him  along  the  avenue  toward  his 
own  house,  and  in  a  very  short  time  Mr.  Cabot 
saw  a  pair  of  horses  with  a  covered  buggy,  its 
leather  apron  well  up  in  front,  come  dashing 
down  the  avenue  from  the  opposite  house. 
Amid  fountains  of  mud  the  little  horses 
wheeled  into  the  road,  trotted  swiftly  toward 
the  village  and  out  of  sight. 

An  hour  and  a  half  later  the  same  horses, 


AMOS     JUDD 

bespattered  and  dripping,  drew  up  at  the  door. 
Amos  got  out  first,  and  holding  the  reins  with 
one  hand,  assisted  Molly  with  the  other.  From 
the  expression  on  the  two  faces  it  was  evident 
their  cheerfulness  was  more  than  a  match  for 
the  fiercest  weather.  Mr.  Cabot  might  perhaps 
have  been  ashamed  to  confess  it,  but  his  was 
a  state  of  mind  in  which  this  excess  of  felicity 
annoyed  him.  He  felt  a  touch  of  resentment 
that  another,  however  youthful  and  attractive, 
should  have  been  taken  into  her  confidence, 
while  he  was  not  even  notified  of  her  arrival. 
But  she  received  a  hearty  welcome,  and  her 
impulsive,  joyful  embrace  almost  restored  him 
to  a  normal  condition. 

A  few  minutes  later  they  were  sitting  in 
the  library,  she  upon  his  lap  recounting  the 
events  that  caused  her  unexpected  return. 
Ned  Elliott  was  quite  ill  when  she  got  there, 
and  last  night  the  doctor  pronounced  it  ty 
phoid  fever;  that  of  course  upset  the  whole 
[  122  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

house,  and  she,  knowing  her  room  was  needed, 
decided  during  the  night  to  come  home  this 
morning.  Such  was  the  substance  of  the  nar 
rative,  but  told  in  many  words,  with  every 
detail  that  occurred  to  her,  and  with  frequent 
ramifications;  for  the  busy  lawyer  had  always 
made  a  point  of  taking  a  very  serious  interest 
in  whatever  his  only  child  saw  fit  to  tell  him. 
And  this  had  resulted  in  an  intimacy  and  a 
reliance  upon  each  other  which  was  very  dear 
to  both.  As  Molly  was  telling  her  story  Maggie 
came  in  from  the  kitchen  and  handed  her  fa 
ther  a  telegram,  saying  Joe  had  just  brought 
it  from  the  post-office.  Mr.  Cabot  felt  for  his 
glasses  and  then  remembered  they  were  over 
on  his  desk.  So  Molly  tore  it  open  and  read 
the  message  aloud. 

HON.  JAMES  CABOT,  DALEFORD,  CONN. 

I  leave  for  home  this  afternoon  by  the  one-forty 

train. 

MARY  CABOT. 

[   123  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

"Why,  papa,  it  is  my  telegram !  How  slow 
it  has  been!" 

"When  did  you  send  it?" 

"I  gave  it  to  Sam  Elliott  about  nine  o'clock 
this  morning,  and  it  wouldn't  be  like  him  to 
forget  it." 

"No,  and  probably  he  did  not  forget  it.  It 
only  waited  at  the  Bingham  station  a  few 
hours  to  get  its  breath  before  starting  on  a 
six-mile  walk." 

But  he  was  glad  to  know  she  had  sent  the 
message.  Suddenly  she  wheeled  about  on  his 
knee  and  inserted  her  fingers  betv/een  his  col 
lar  and  his  neck,  an  old  trick  of  her  childhood 
and  still  employed  when  the  closest  attention 
was  required.  "But  how  did  you  know  I  was 
coming  ?  " 

"I  did  not." 

"But  you  sent  for  me." 

"No,  Amos  went  for  you  of  his  own  ac 
cord." 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Well,  how  did  he  know  I  was  coming?" 
Mr.  Cabot  raised  his  eyebrowrs.  "I  have  no 
idea,  unless  you  sent  him  word." 

"  Of  course  I  did  n't  send  him  word.  What 
an  idea !  Why  don't  you  tell  me  how  you 
knew?"  and  the  honest  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
his  own  in  stern  disapproval.  He  smiled  and 
said  it  was  evidently  a  mysterious  case;  that 
she  must  cross-examine  the  prophet.  He  then 
told  her  of  the  roses  and  of  his  interview  with 
Amos.  She  was  mystified,,  and  also  a  little  ex 
cited  as  she  recalled  the  stories  of  Deacon 
White,  but  knowing  her  father  would  only 
laugh  at  them,  contented  herself  with  exact 
ing  the  promise  of  an  immediate  explanation 
from  Mr.  Judd. 


[  125] 


EARLY  in  the  evening  the  young  man  ap 
peared.  He  found  Mr.  Cabot  and  Molly 
sitting  before  a  cheerful  fire,  an  agreeable  con 
trast  to  the  howling  elements  without.  She 
thanked  him  for  the  roses,  expressing  her  ad 
miration  for  their  uncommon  beauty. 

With  a  grave  salutation  he  answered,  "I 
told  them,  one  morning,  when  they  were  little 
buds,  that  if  they  surpassed  all  previous  roses 
there  was  a  chance  of  being  accepted  by  the 
Dispenser  of  Sunshine  who  dwells  across  the 
way;  and  this  is  the  result  of  their  efforts." 

"The  results  are  superb,  and  I  am  grate- 
fill" 

"  There  is  no  question  of  their  beauty,"  said 
Mr.  Cabot,  "  and  they  appear  to  possess  a 
knowledge  of  coming  events  that  must  be  of 
value  at  times." 

"It  was  not  from  the  roses  I  got  my  infor- 
[126] 


AMOS     JUDD 

mation,  sir.  But  I  will  tell  you  about  that  now., 
if  you  wish." 

"Well,  take  a  cigar  and  clear  up  the  mys 
tery." 

It  seemed  a  winter's  evening,  as  the  three 
sat  before  the  fire,  the  older  man  in  the  cen 
tre,  the  younger  people  on  either  side,  facing 
each  other.  Mr.  Cabot  crossed  his  legs,  and 
laying  his  magazine  face  downward  upon  his 
lap,  said,  "I  confess  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  the 
puzzle  solved,  as  it  is  a  little  deep  for  me  ex 
cept  on  the  theory  that  you  are  skilful  liars. 
Molly  I  know  to  be  unpractised  in  that  art, 
but  as  for  you,  Amos,  I  can  only  guess  what 
you  may  conceal  under  a  truthful  exterior." 

Amos  smiled.  "It  is  something  to  look  hon 
est,  and  I  am  glad  you  can  say  even  that." 
Then,  after  a  pause,  he  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  and,  in  a  voice  at  first  a  little  con 
strained,  thus  began : 

"As  long  ago  as  I  can  remember  I  used  to 
[  127  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

imagine  things  that  were  to  happen,  all  sorts 
of  scenes  and  events  that  might  possibly  oc 
cur,,  as  most  children  do,,  I  suppose.  But  these 
scenes,  or  imaginings,  were  of  two  kinds :  those 
that  required  a  little  effort  of  my  own,  and 
another  kind  that  came  with  no  effort  what 
ever.  These  last  were  the  most  usual,  and  were 
sometimes  of  use  as  they  always  came  true. 
That  is,  they  never  failed  to  occur  just  as  I 
had  seen  them.  While  a  child  this  did  not  sur 
prise  me,  as  I  supposed  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  were  just  like  myself." 

At  this  point  Amos  looked  over  toward 
Molly  and  added,  with  a  faint  smile,  "I  know 
just  what  your  father  is  thinking.  He  is  re 
gretting  that  an  otherwise  healthy  young  man 
should  develop  such  lamentable  symptoms." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Cabot.  "It  is  very 
interesting.  Go  on." 

She  felt  annoyed  by  her  father's  calmness. 
Here  was    the  most    extraordinary,   the  most 
[  128  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

marvellous  thing  she  had  ever  encountered, 
and  yet  he  behaved  as  if  it  were  a  common 
place  experience  of  every-day  life.  And  he 
must  know  that  Amos  was  telling  the  truth! 
But  Amos  himself  showed  no  signs  of  annoy 
ance. 

"As  I  grew  older  and  discovered  gradually 
that  none  of  my  friends  had  this  faculty,  and 
that  people  looked  upon  it  as  something  un 
canny  and  supernatural,  I  learned  to  keep  it  to 
myself.  I  became  almost  ashamed  of  the  pecu 
liarity  and  tried  by  disuse  to  outgrow  it,  but 
such  a  power  is  too  useful  a  thing  to  ignore  al 
together,  and  there  are  times  when  the  temp 
tation  is  hard  to  resist.  That  was  the  case  this 
afternoon.  I  expected  a  friend  who  was  to  tele 
graph  me  if  unable  to  come,  and  at  half-past 
two  no  message  had  arrived :  but  being  familiar 
with  the  customs  of  the  Daleford  office  I  knew 
there  might  be  a  dozen  telegrams  and  I  get 
none  the  wiser.  So,  not  wishing  to  drive  twelve 
[  129  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

miles  for  nothing  in  such  a  storm,  I  yielded 
to  the  old  temptation  and  put  myself  ahead 
—  in  spirit  of  course  —  and  saw  the  train  as  it 
arrived.  You  can  imagine  my  surprise  when 
the  first  person  to  get  off  was  Miss  Molly 
Cabot." 

Her  eyes  were  glowing  with  excitement.  Re 
pressing  an  exclamation  of  wonder,  she  turned 
toward  her  father  and  was  astonished,  and 
gently  indignant,  to  find  him  in  the  placid 
enjoyment  of  his  cigar,  showing  no  surprise. 
Then  she  asked  of  Amos,  almost  in  a  whisper, 
for  her  throat  seemed  very  dry,  "What  time 
was  it  when  you  saw  this?" 

"About  half-past  two." 

"And  the  train  got  in  at  four." 

"Yes,  about  four." 

"You  saw  what  occurred  on  the  platform  as 
if  you  were  there  in  person?"  Mr.  Cabot  in 
quired. 

<fYes,  sir.  The  conductor  helped  her  out  and 
[  130] 


AMOS     JUDD 

she  started  to  run  into  the  station  to  get  out 
of  the  rain." 

"Yes,  yes!"  from  Molly. 

"But  the  wind  twisted  you  about  and  blew 
you  against  him.  And  you  both  stuck  there  for 
a  second." 

She  laughed  nervously:  "Yes,  that  is  just 
what  happened!" 

"But  I  am  surprised,  Amos/'  put  in  Mr. 
Cabot,  "that  you  should  have  had  so  little 
sympathy  for  a  tempest-tossed  lady  as  to  fail 
to  observe  there  was  no  carriage." 

"I  took  it  for  granted  you  had  sent  for 
her." 

"But  you  saw  there  was  none  at  the  sta 
tion." 

"There  might  have  been  several  and  I  not 
see  them." 

"Then  your  vision  was  limited  to  a  certain 
spot?" 

"Yes,  sir,  in  a  way,  for  I  could  only  see  as  if 
[131] 


AMOS     J  UDD 

I  were  there  in  person,  and  I  did  not  move 
around  to  the  other  side  of  the  station." 

"Didn't  you  take  notice  as  you  approached?" 

Amos  drew  a  hand  up  the  back  of  his  head 
and  hesitated  before  answering.  "I  closed  my 
eyes  at  home  with  a  wish  to  be  at  the  station 
as  the  train  came  in,  and  I  found  myself  there 
without  approaching  it  from  any  particular 
direction." 

"And  if  you  had  looked  down  the  road," 
Mr.  Cabot  continued,  after  a  pause,  "you 
would  have  seen  yourself  approaching  in  a 
buggy?" 

"Yes,  probably." 

"And  from  the  buggy  you  might  almost 
have  seen  what  you  have  just  described."  This 
was  said  so  calmly  and  pleasantly  that  Molly, 
for  an  instant,  did  not  catch  its  full  meaning; 
then  her  eyes,  in  disappointment,  turned  to 
Amos.  She  thought  there  was  a  flush  on  the 
dark  face,  and  something  resembling  anger  as 
[  132  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

the  eyes  turned  toward  her  father.  But  Mr. 
Cabot  was  watching  the  smoke  as  it  curled 
from  his  lips.  After  a  very  short  pause  Amos 
said,  quietly,  "It  had  not  occurred  to  me  that 
my  statement  could  place  me'  in  such  an  un 
fortunate  position." 

"Not  at  all  unfortunate,"  and  Mr.  Cabot 
raised  a  hand  in  protest.  "  I  know  you  too  well, 
Amos,  to  doubt  your  sincerity.  The  worst  I  can 
possibly  believe  is  that  you  yourself  are  mis 
led:  that  you  are  perhaps  attaching  a  false  sig 
nificance  to  a  series  of  events  that  might  be 
explained  in  another  way." 

Amos  arose  and  stood  facing  them  with  his 
back  against  the  mantel.  "You  are  much  too 
clever  for  me,  Mr.  Cabot.  I  hardly  thought  you 
could  accept  this  explanation,  but  I  have  told 
you  nothing  but  the  truth." 

"My  dear  boy,  do  not  think  for  a  moment 
that  I  doubt  your  honesty.  Older  men  than 
you,  and  harder-headed  ones,  have  digested 
[  133  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

more  incredible  things.  In  telling  your  story 
you  ask  me  to  believe  what  I  consider  impos 
sible.  There  is  no  well-authenticated  case  on 
record  of  such  a  faculty.  It  would  interfere 
with  the  workings  of  nature.  Future  events 
could  not  arrange  themselves  with  any  confi 
dence  in  your  vicinity,  and  all  history  that  is 
to  come,  and  even  the  elements,  would  be  com 
pelled  to  adjust  themselves  according  to  your 
predictions." 

"But,  papa,  you  yourself  had  positive  evi 
dence  that  he  knew  of  my  coming  two  hours 
before  I  came.  How  do  you  explain  that?" 

"I  do  not  pretend  to  explain  it,  and  I  will 
not  infuriate  Amos  by  calling  it  a  good  guess, 
or  a  startling  coincidence." 

Amos  smiled.  "Oh,  call  it  what  you  please, 
Mr.  Cabot.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  the  fact 
of  these  things  invariably  coming  true  ought 
to  count  for  something,  even  with  the  legal 
mind." 


AMOS     JUDD 

"You  say  there  has  never  been  a  single  case 
in  which  your  prophecy  has  failed?" 

"Not  one." 

"Suppose,  just  for  illustration,  that  you 
should  look  ahead  and  see  yourself  in  church 
next  Sunday  standing  on  your  head  in  the 
aisle,  and  suppose  you  had  a  serious  unwilling 
ness  to  perform  the  act.  Would  you  still  go  to 
church  and  do  it?" 

"I  should  go  to  church  and  do  it." 

"Out  of  respect  for  the  prophecy?" 

"No,  because  I  could  not  prevent  it." 

"Have  you  often  resisted?" 

"Not  very  often,  but  enough  to  learn  the 
lesson." 

"And  you  have  always  fulfilled  the  proph 
ecy?" 

"Always." 

There  was  a  short  silence  during  which 
Molly  kept  her  eyes  on  her  work,  while  Amos 
stood  silently  beside  the  fire  as  if  there  was 


AMOS     JUDD 

nothing  more  to  be  said.  Finally  Mr.  Cabot 
knocked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar  and  asked, 
with  his  pleasantest  smile,  "Do  you  think  if 
one  of  these  scenes  involved  the  actions  of 
another  person  than  yourself,  that  person 
would  also  carry  it  out?" 

"I  think  so." 

"That  if  you  told  me,  for  instance,  of  some 
thing  I  should  do  to-morrow  at  twelve  o'clock, 
I  should  do  it?" 

"I  think  so." 

"Well,  what  am  I  going  to  do  to-morrow  at 
noon,  as  the  clock  strikes  twelve?" 

"Give  me  five  minutes,"  and  with  closed 
eyes  and  head  slightly  inclined,  the  young 
man  remained  leaning  against  the  mantel 
without  changing  his  position.  It  seemed  a 
long  five  minutes.  Outside,  the  tempest  beat 
viciously  against  the  windows,  then  with  mock 
ing  shrieks  whirled  away  into  the  night.  To 
Molly's  excited  fancy  the  echoing  chimney 
[136] 


AMOS     JUDD 

was  alive  with  the  mutterings  of  unearthly 
voices.  Although  in  her  father's  judgment  she 
placed  a  perfect  trust,  there  still  remained  a 
lingering  faith  in  this  supernatural  power, 
whatever  it  was;  but  she  knew  it  to  be  a  faith 
her  reason  might  not  support.  As  for  Amos,  he 
was  certainly  an  interesting  figure  as  he  stood 
before  them,  and  nothing  could  be  easier  at 
such  a  moment  than  for  an  imaginative  girl  to 
invest  him  with  mystic  attributes.  Although 
outwardly  American  so  far  as  raiment,  the  cut 
of  his  hair,  and  his  own  efforts  could  produce 
that  impression,,  he  remained,  nevertheless, 
distinctly  Oriental.  The  dark  skin,  the  long, 
black,  clearly  marked  eyebrows,  the  singular 
beauty  of  his  features,  almost  feminine  in  their 
refinement,  betrayed  a  race  whose  origin  and 
traditions  were  far  removed  from  his  present 
surroundings.  She  was  struck  by  the  little  scar 
upon  his  forehead,  which  seemed,  of  a  sudden, 
to  glow  and  be  alive,  as  if  catching  some  re- 
[137] 


AMOS     J U  D  D 

flection  from  the  firelight.  While  her  eyes  were 
upon  it,  the  fire  blazed  up  in  a  dying  effort, 
and  went  out;  but  the  little  scar  remained  a 
luminous  spot  with  a  faint  light  of  its  own. 
She  drew  her  hand  across  her  brow  to  brush 
away  the  illusion,  and  as  she  again  looked  to 
ward  him  he  opened  his  eyes  and  raised  his 
head.  Then  he  said  to  her  father,  slowly,  as  if 
from  a  desire  to  make  no  mistake: 

"  To-morrow  you  will  be  standing  in  front  of 
the  Unitarian  Church,  looking  up  at  the  clock 
on  the  steeple  as  it  strikes  twelve.  Then  you 
will  walk  along  by  the  Common  until  you  are 
opposite  Caleb  Farnum's,  cross  the  street,  and 
knock  at  his  door.  Mrs.  Farnum  will  open  it. 
She  will  show  you  into  the  parlor,  the  room  on 
the  right,  where  you  will  sit  down  in  a  rocking- 
chair  and  wait.  I  left  you  there,  but  can  tell 
you  the  rest  if  you  choose  to  give  the  time." 

Molly  glanced  at  her  father  and  was  sur 
prised  by  his  expression.  Bending  forward,  his 
[  138  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

eyes  fixed  upon  Amos  with  a  look  of  the  deep 
est  interest,  he  made  no  effort  to  conceal  his 
astonishment.  He  leaned  back  in  the  chair, 
however,  and  resuming  his  old  attitude,  said, 
quietly : 

"That  is  precisely  what  I  intended  to  do  to 
morrow,  and  at  twelve  o'clock,  as  I  knew  he 
would  be  at  home  for  his  dinner.  Is  it  possible 
that  a  wholesome,  out-of-doors  young  chap  like 
you  can  be  something  of  a  mind-reader  and  not 
know  it?" 

"No,  sir.   I  have  no  such  talent." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Absolutely  sure.  It  happens  that  you  al 
ready  intended  to  do  the  thing  mentioned, 
but  that  was  merely  a  coincidence." 

For  a  moment  or  two  there  was  a  silence, 
during  which  Mr.  Cabot  seemed  more  inter 
ested  in  the  appearance  of  his  cigar  than  in 
the  previous  conversation.  At  last  he  said: 

"I  understand  you  to  say  these  scenes,  or 
[  139  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

prophecies,  or  whatever  you  call  them,  have 
never  failed  of  coming  true.  Now,  if  I  wilfully 
refrain  from  calling  on  Mr.  Farnum  to-morrow 
it  will  have  a  tendency  to  prove,  will  it  not, 
that  your  system  is  fallible?" 

"I  suppose  so." 

"And  if  you  can  catch  it  in  several  such 
errors  you  might  in  time  lose  confidence  in 
it?" 

"Very  likely,  but  I  think  it  will  never  hap 
pen.  At  least,  not  in  such  a  way." 

"Just  leave  that  to  me,"  and  Mr.  Cabot  rose 
from  his  seat  and  stood  beside  him  in  front  of 
the  fire.  "The  only  mystery,  in  my  opinion,  is 
a  vivid  imagination  that  sometimes  gets  the 
better  of  your  facts;  or  rather  combines  with 
your  facts  and  gets  the  better  of  yourself. 
These  visions,  however  real,  are  such  as  come 
not  only  to  hosts  of  children,  but  to  many 
older  people  who  are  highstrung  and  imagina 
tive.  As  for  the  prophetic  faculty,  don't  let 
[  140  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

that  worry  you.  It  is  a  bump  that  has  not 
sprouted  yet  on  your  head,  or  on  any  other. 
Daniel  and  Elijah  are  the  only  experts  of  per 
manent  standing  in  that  line,  and  even  their 
reputations  are  not  what  they  used  to  be." 

Amos  smiled  and  said  something  about  not 
pretending  to  compete  with  professionals,  and 
the  conversation  turned  to  other  matters.  After 
his  departure,  as  they  went  upstairs,  Molly  lin 
gered  in  her  father's  chamber  a  moment  and 
asked  if  he  really  thought  Mr.  Judd  had  seen 
from  his  buggy  the  little  incident  at  the  sta 
tion  which  he  thought  had  appeared  to  him  in 
his  vision. 

"It  seems  safe  to  suppose  so,"  he  answered. 
"And  he  could  easily  be  misled  by  a  little  se 
quence  of  facts,  fancies,  and  coincidences  that 
happened  to  form  a  harmonious  whole." 

"But  in  other  matters  he  seems  so  sensible, 
and  he  certainly  is  not  easily  deceived." 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  those  are  often  the  very 


AMOS     JUDD 

people  who  become  the  readiest  victims.  Now 
Amos,  with  all  his  practical  common-sense,  I 
know  to  be  unusually  romantic  and  imagina 
tive.  He  loves  the  mystic  and  the  fabulous.  The 
other  day  while  we  were  fishing  together  — 
thank  you,  Maggie  does  love  a  fresh  place  for 
my  slippers  every  night  —  the  other  day  I  dis 
covered,  from  several  things  he  said,  that  he 
was  an  out-and-out  fatalist.  But  I  think  we 
can  weaken  his  faith  in  all  that.  He  is  too 
young  and  healthy  and  has  too  free  a  mind  to 
remain  a  permanent  dupe." 


VI 

THE  next  morning  was  clear  and  bright. 
Mr.  Cabot,  absorbed  in  his  work,  spent 
nearly  the  whole  forenoon  among  his  papers, 
and  when  he  saw  Molly  in  her  little  cart  drive 
up  to  the  door  with  a  seamstress  from  the  vil 
lage,  he  knew  the  day  was  getting  on.  Seeing 
him  still  at  his  desk  as  she  entered,  she  bent 
over  him  and  put  a  hand  before  his  eyes.  "Oh, 
crazy  man!  You  have  no  idea  what  a  day  it  is, 
and  to  waste  it  over  an  ink-pot!  Why,  it  is 
half-past  eleven,  and  I  believe  you  have  been 
here  ever  since  I  left.  Stop  that  work  this 
minute  and  go  out  of  doors."  A  cool  cheek  was 
laid  against  his  face  and  the  pen  removed  from 
his  fingers.  "Now  mind." 

"Well,  you  are  right.  Let  us  both  take  a 
walk." 

"I  wish  I  could,  but  I  must  start  Mrs.  Turner 
on  her  sewing.  Please  go  yourself.  It  is  a  heav 
enly  day."  [  143  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

As  he  stepped  off  the  piazza  a  few  minutes 
later,  she  called  out  from  her  chamber  window, 
"Which  way  are  you  going,  papa?" 

"To  the  village,  and  I  will  get  the  mail." 
"Be  sure  and  not  go  to  Mr.  Farnum's." 
"I  promise,"  and  with  a  smile  he  walked 
away.  Her  enthusiasm  over  the  quality  of  the 
day  he  found  was  not  misplaced.  The  pure, 
fresh  air  brought  a  new  life.  Gigantic  snowy 
clouds,  like  the  floating  mountains  of  fairy 
land,  moved  majestically  across  the  heavens, 
and  the  distant  hills  stood  clear  and  sharp 
against  the  dazzling  blue.  The  road  was  muddy, 
but  that  was  a  detail  to  a  lover  of  nature,  and 
Mr.  Cabot,  as  he  strode  rapidly  toward  the  vil 
lage,  experienced  an  elasticity  and  exhilara 
tion  that  recalled  his  younger  days.  He  felt 
more  like  dancing  or  climbing  trees  than  plod 
ding  sedately  along  a  turnpike.  With  a  quick, 
youthful  step  he  ascended  the  gentle  incline 
that  led  to  the  Common,  and  if  a  stranger  had 

r  144 1 


AMOS    JUDD 

been  called  upon  to  guess  at  the  gentleman's 
age  as  he  walked  jauntily  into  the  village  with 
head  erect,  swinging  his  cane,  he  would  more 
likely  have  said  thirty  years  than  sixty.  And 
if  the  stranger  had  watched  him  for  another 
three  minutes  he  would  have  modified  his 
guess,,  and  not  only  have  given  him  credit  for 
his  full  age,  but  might  have  suspected  either 
an  excessive  fatigue  or  a  mild  intemperance. 
For  Mr.  Cabot,  during  his  short  walk  through 
Daleford  Village,  experienced  a  series  of  sen 
sations  so  novel  and  so  crushing  that  he  never, 
in  his  inner  self,  recovered  completely  from 
the  shock. 

Instead  of  keeping  along  the  sidewalk  to 
the  right  and  going  to  the  post-office  accord 
ing  to  his  custom,  he  crossed  the  muddy  road 
and  took  the  gravel  walk  that  skirted  the 
Common.  It  seemed  a  natural  course,  and  he 
failed  to  realize,  until  he  had  done  it,  that  he 
was  going  out  of  his  way.  Now  he  must  cross 
[145] 


AMOS     JUDD 

the  road  again  when  opposite  the  store.  When 
opposite  the  store,  however,  instead  of  crossing 
over  he  kept  along  as  he  had  started.  Then  he 
stopped,  as  if  to  turn,  but  his  hesitation  was 
for  a  second  only.  Again  he  went  ahead,  along 
the  same  path,  by  the  side  of  the  Common.  It 
was  then  that  Mr.  Cabot  felt  a  mild  but  un 
pleasant  thrill  creep  upward  along  his  spine 
and  through  his  hair.  This  was  caused  by  a 
startling  suspicion  that  his  movements  were 
not  in  obedience  to  his  own  will.  A  moment 
later  it  became  a  conviction.  This  conscious 
ness  brought  the  cold  sweat  to  his  brow,  but 
he  was  too  strong  a  man,  too  clear-headed  and 
determined,  to  lose  his  bearings  without  a 
struggle  or  without  a  definite  reason.  With  all 
the  force  of  his  nature  he  stopped  once  more 
to  decide  it,  then  and  there:  and  again  he 
started  forward.  An  indefinable,  all-pervading 
force,  gentle  but  immeasurably  stronger  than 
himself,  was  exerting  an  intangible  pressure, 
[  1*6] 


AMOS     JUDD 

and  never  in  his  recollection  had  he  felt  so 
powerless,,  so  weak,  so  completely  at  the  mercy 
of  something  that  was  no  part  of  himself;  yet, 
while  amazed  and  impressed  beyond  his  own 
belief,  he  suffered  no  obscurity  of  intellect. 
The  first  surprise  over,  he  was  more  puzzled 
than  terrified,,  more  irritated  than  resigned. 

For  nearly  a  hundred  yards  he  walked  on, 
impelled  by  he  knew  not  what;  then,  with  de 
liberate  resolution,  he  stopped,  clutched  the 
wooden  railing  at  his  side,  and  held  it  with  an 
iron  grip.  As  he  did  so,  the  clock  in  the  belfry 
of  the  Unitarian  Church  across  the  road  began 
striking  twelve.  He  raised  his  eyes,  and,  re 
calling  the  prophecy  of  Amos,  he  bit  his  lip, 
and  his  head  reeled  as  in  a  dream.  "To 
morrow,  as  the  clock  strikes  twelve,  you  will 
be  standing  in  front  of  the  Unitarian  Church, 
looking  up  at  it."  Each  stroke  of  the  bell  — 
and  no  bell  ever  sounded  so  loud — vibrated 
through  every  nerve  of  his  being.  It  was  harsh, 
[147] 


AMOS    JUDD 

exultant,  almost  threatening,  and  his  brain  in 
a  numb,  dull  way  seemed  to  quiver  beneath 
the  blows.  Yet,  up  there,  about  the  white  bel 
fry,  pigeons  strutted  along  the  moulding,  coo 
ing,  quarrelsome,  and  important,  like  any  other 
pigeons.  And  the  sunlight  was  even  brighter 
than  usual;  the  sky  bluer  and  more  dazzling. 
The  tall  spire,  from  the  moving  clouds  behind 
it,  seemed  like  a  huge  ship,  sailing  forward 
and  upward  as  if  he  and  it  were  floating  to  a 
different  world. 

Still  holding  fast  to  the  fence,  he  drew  the 
other  hand  sharply  across  his  eyes  to  rally  his 
wavering  senses.  The  big  elms  towered  se 
renely  above  him,  their  leaves  rustling  like  a 
countless  chorus  in  the  summer  breeze.  Oppo 
site,  the  row  of  old-fashioned  New  England 
houses  stood  calmly  in  their  places,  self-pos 
sessed,  with  no  signs  of  agitation.  The  world, 
to  their  knowledge,  had  undergone  no  sudden 
changes  within  the  last  five  minutes.  It  must 
[148] 


AMOS     JUDD 

have  been  a  delusion:  a  little  collapse  of  his 
nerves,  perhaps.  So  many  things  can  affect  the 
brain:  any  doctor  could  easily  explain  it.  He 
would  rest  a  minute,  then  return. 

As  he  made  this  resolve  his  left  hand,  like 
a  treacherous  servant,  quietly  relaxed  its  hold 
and  he  started  off,  not  toward  his  home,  but 
forward,  continuing  his  journey.  He  now  real 
ized  that  the  force  which  impelled  him,  al 
though  gentle  and  seemingly  not  hostile  in 
purpose,  was  so  much  stronger  than  himself 
that  resistance  was  useless.  During  the  next 
three  minutes,  as  he  walked  mechanically  along 
the  sidewalk  by  the  Common,  his  brain  was 
nervously  active  in  an  effort  to  arrive  at  some 
solution  of  this  erratic  business;  some  sensible 
solution  that  was  based  either  on  science  or  on 
common-sense.  But  that  solace  was  denied  him. 
The  more  he  thought  the  less  he  knew.  No 
previous  experience  of  his  own,  and  no  authen 
ticated  experience  of  anyone  else,  at  least  of 
[  1*9] 


AMOS     JUDD 

which  he  had  ever  heard,  could  he  summon  to 
assist  him.  When  opposite  the  house  of  Silas 
Farnum  he  turned  and  left  the  sidewalk,  and 
noticed,  with  an  irresponsible  interest  as  he 
crossed  the  road,  that  with  no  care  of  his  own 
he  avoided  the  puddles  and  selected  for  his 
feet  the  drier  places.  This  was  another  sur 
prise,  for  he  took  no  thought  of  his  steps;  and 
the  discovery  added  to  the  overwhelming  sense 
of  helplessness  that  was  taking  possession  of 
him.  With  no  volition  of  his  own  he  also 
avoided  the  wet  grass  between  the  road  and 
the  gravel  walk.  He  next  found  himself  in 
front  of  Silas  Farnum' s  gate  and  his  hand 
reached  forth  to  open  it.  It  was  another  mild 
surprise  when  this  hand,  like  a  conscious  thing, 
tried  the  wrong  side  of  the  little  gate,  then 
felt  about  for  the  latch.  The  legs  over  which 
he  had  ceased  to  have  direction,  carried  him 
along  the  narrow  brick  walk,  and  one  of  them 
lifted  him  upon  the  granite  doorstep. 
[  150  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

Once  more  he  resolved,  calmly  and  with  a 
serious  determination,,  that  this  humiliating 
comedy  should  go  no  farther.  He  would  turn 
about  and  go  home  without  entering  the 
house.  It  would  be  well  for  Amos  to  know 
that  an  old  lawyer  of  sixty  was  composed  of 
different  material  from  the  impressionable  en 
thusiast  of  twenty-seven.  While  making  this 
resolve  the  soles  of  his  shoes  were  drawing 
themselves  across  the  iron  scraper;  then  he 
saw  his  hand  rise  slowly  toward  the  old-fash 
ioned  knocker  and,  with  three  taps,  announce 
his  presence.  A  huge  fly  dozing  on  the  knocker 
flew  off  and  lit  again  upon  the  panel  of  the 
door.  As  it  readjusted  its  wings  and  drew  a 
pair  of  front  legs  over  the  top  of  its  head  Mr. 
Cabot  wondered,  if  at  the  creation  of  the 
world,  it  was  fore-ordained  that  this  insect 
should  occupy  that  identical  spot  at  a  speci 
fied  moment  of  a  certain  day,  and  execute 
this  trivial  performance.  If  so,  what  a  role 
[  151  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

humanity  was  playing!  The  door  opened  and 
Mrs.  Farnum,  with  a  smiling  face,  stood  before 
him. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Cabot?  Won't  you 
step  in?" 

As  he  opened  his  lips  to  decline,  he  entered 
the  little  hallway,  was  shown  into  the  parlor 
and  sat  in  a  horse-hair  rocking-chair,  in  which 
he  waited  for  Mrs.  Farnum  to  call  her  hus 
band.  When  the  husband  came  Mr.  Cabot 
stated  his  business  and  found  that  he  was 
once  more  dependent  upon  his  own  volition. 
He  could  rise,  walk  to  the  window,  say  what 
he  wished,  and  sit  down  again  when  he  de 
sired. 

Upon  reaching  home  he  wTent  directly  to 
his  chamber,  and  was  glad  to  enter  it  without 
meeting  his  daughter.  His  reflection  in  the 
mirror  surprised  him,  as  he  expected  to  find 
a  face  thirty  years  older  than  when  it  started 
for  the  village.  But  there  were  no  outward 
[152] 


AMOS     JUDD 

traces  of  the  recent  struggle.  It  was  the  same 
face,  calm,  firm,  and  as  self-reliant  as  ever. 
This  was  reassuring  and  did  much  toward  a  re 
turn  of  confidence.  He  threw  himself  upon  the 
bed,  and  as  he  lay  there  he  heard  through  the 
open  window  the  voices  of  Molly  and  Amos 
in  the  old-fashioned  garden.  They  seemed  very 
jolly  and  happy,  and  Molly's  laughter  came 
like  music  to  his  ears;  but  her  companion, 
although  amusing  and  full  of  fun,  seemed  to 
do  none  of  the  laughing;  and  then  it  came 
upon  him  that  in  all  his  intercourse  with  Amos 
he  had  never  heard  him  laugh.  Ever  ready  to 
smile,  and  often  irresistible  in  his  high  spirits, 
yet  he  never  laughed  aloud.  And  the  deep 
melancholy  of  his  face  when  in  repose  —  was 
that  a  result  of  fulfilling  prophecies?  Were 
there  solemn  secrets  behind  that  boyish  face? 
The  perfume  of  the  flowers  stole  in  through 
the  closed  blinds,  and  he  could  hear  the  buzz 
ing  of  a  bee  outside  the  window,  mingling 
[  153  ] 


AMOS    JUBD 

with  the  voices  in  the  garden.  These  voices 
became  lower,  the  subject  of  conversation  hav 
ing  changed  —  perhaps  to  something  more  se 
rious —  and  Mr.  Cabot  took  a  nap. 


[154] 


VII 

D  you  go  to  Silas  Farnum's  ?"  was 
Molly's  first  question,  and  her  father 
confessed  having  done  precisely  as  Amos  had 
predicted ;  but  while  giving  a  truthful  account 
of  his  experience,  he  told  the  story  in  a  half- 
jesting  manner,  attributing  his  compulsory 
visit  to  some  hypnotic  influence,  and  to  a  tem 
porary  irresponsibility  of  his  own.  His  daugh 
ter,  however,  was  not  deceived.  Her  belief  in 
a  supernatural  agency  renewed  its  strength. 

As  for  her  father,  he  had  never  been  more 
at  sea  in  the  solution  of  a  problem.  In  his  own 
mind  the  only  explanation  was  by  the  domi 
nance  of  another  mind  over  his  own,  by  a  force 
presumably  mesmeric.  The  fact  that  Amos 
himself  was  also  a  victim  rendered  that  theory 
difficult  to  accept,  unless  both  were  dupes  of 
some  third  person.  If  at  the  time  of  his  visit  to 
Silas  Farnum  he  had  been  ill,  or  weak,  or  in  a 

r  155 1 


AMOS     JUDD 

nervous  condition,,  or  had  it  occurred  at  night 
when  the  imagination  might  get  the  better 
of  one's  judgment,  there  would  have  been 
the  possibility  of  an  explanation  on  physical 
grounds.  But  that  he,  James  Cabot,  of  good 
health  and  strength,  should,  in  the  sunlight 
of  a  summer  noon,  be  the  powerless  victim  of 
such  an  influence,  was  a  theory  so  mortifying 
and  preposterous  as  to  upset  his  usual  pro 
cesses  of  reason. 

It  was  not  until  the  next  afternoon  that  an 
opportunity  was  given  for  a  word  with  Amos. 
Out  on  the  grass,  beneath  a  huge  elm  at  the 
easterly  corner  of  the  house,  Mr.  Cabot,  in  a 
bamboo  chair,  was  reclining  with  his  paper, 
when  he  noticed  his  young  friend  cantering 
briskly  along  the  road  on  a  chestnut  horse. 
Amos  saw  him,  turned  his  animal  toward  the 
low  stone  wall  that  separated  the  Cabots'  field 
from  the  highway,  cleared  it  with  an  easy 
jump  and  came  cantering  over  the  grass. 
[  156] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Is  that  old  Betty?  I  didn't  know  she  was 
a  jumper." 

"Oh,  yes.  She  has  a  record."  Dismounting, 
he  faced  her  about  and,  with  a  tap  on  the 
flank,  told  her  to  go  home.  She  returned,  how 
ever,  and  showed  a  desire  to  rub  noses  with 
him.  "Well,  have  your  way,  old  lady,"  and 
leaving  her  to  a  feast  of  clover  he  threw  him 
self  on  the  ground  at  Mr.  Cabot's  feet. 

"You  are  a  kind  man  to  your  animals,  Amos, 
although  you  may  be  somewhat  offensive  as  a 
prophet." 

"So  you  went,  after  all?" 

"Went  where?" 

"To  see  Silas  Farnum." 

"Did  I  say  that?" 

Amos  looked  up  with  a  smile  that  could 
have  a  dozen  meanings.  His  wily  companion, 
from  a  sense  of  professional  caution,  wished  to 
feel  his  way  before  committing  himself. 

"You  think  I  went,  after  all?" 
[  157  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Yes,  sir,  I  know  you  did,  from  my  own 
experience." 

"Which  is  that  the  events  inevitably  occur 
as  foreseen?" 

"Always." 

"Well,  I  will  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  and 
tell  you  just  what  happened." 

"I  know  it  already,  Mr.  Cabot,  as  well  as  if 
you  had  told  me." 

"Do  you  know  of  my  resolve  not  to  do  it? 
Of  my  ineffectual  resistance  and  the  sensations 
I  experienced?" 

"I  think  so.  I  have  been  through  it  all  my 
self." 

For  a  minute  or  two  neither  spoke.  Amos, 
resting  upon  an  elbow,  his  cheek  against  the 
palm  of  one  hand,  was,  with  the  other,  de 
ceiving  a  very  small  caterpillar  into  useless 
marches  from  one  end  of  a  blade  of  grass  to 
the  other.  Mr.  Cabot,  in  a  more  serious  tone, 
continued:  "Can  you  tell  me,  Amos,  on  your 
[  158  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

honor,  that  as  far  as  you  know  there  was  no  at 
tempt  on  your  part,,  or  on  the  part  of  any  other 
person,  to  influence  me  upon  that  occasion?" 

Amos  tossed  aside  the  blade  of  grass  and 
sat  up.  "I  give  you  my  word,  sir,  that  so  far  as 
I  know  there  is  nothing  in  it  of  that  nature.  I 
am  just  as  helpless  as  you  when  it  comes  to 
any  attempt  at  resistance." 

"Then  how  do  you  account  for  it?" 

Amos  had  plucked  a  longer  blade  of  grass, 
and  was  winding  it  about  his  fingers.  "My 
explanation  may  seem  childish  to  you,  but  I 
have  no  better  one  to  offer.  It  is  simply  that 
certain  events  are  destined  to  occur  at  ap 
pointed  times,  and  that  my  knowing  it  in  ad 
vance  is  not  allowed  to  interfere  with  the 
natural  order  of  things." 

"The  evidence  may  seem  to  point  that  way, 
judging  from  my  own  experience,  but  can  you 
believe  that  the  whole  human  race  are  carry 
ing  out  such  a  cut-and-dried  scheme?  Accord- 
[  159] 


AMOS     JUDD 

ing  to  that  theory  we  are  merely  mechanical 
dummies,  irresponsible  and  helpless,  like  cogs 
in  a  wheel." 

"No,  sir,  we  are  at  liberty  to  do  just  as  we 
please.  It  was  your  own  idea  going  to  Silas 
Farnum's.  That  you  happened  to  be  told  of 
it  in  advance  created  an  artificial  condition, 
otherwise  you  would  have  gone  there  in  peace 
and  happiness.  In  other  words,  it  was  ordained 
that  you  should  desire  to  do  that  thing,  and 
you  were  to  do  as  you  desired." 

The  lawyer  remained  silent  a  moment,  his 
face  giving  no  indication  either  of  belief  or 
denial. 

"Have  you  never  been  able  to  prevent  or 
even  modify  the  fulfilment  of  an  act  after 
having  seen  it  in  advance?" 

"No,  sir;  never." 

"Then  these  scenes  as  presented  to  you 
are  invariably  correct,  without  the  slightest 

change?" 

[160] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Yes." 

Mr.  Cabot  looked  down  at  his  friend  with  a 
feeling  that  was  not  without  a  touch  of  awe. 
Of  the  young  man's  honesty  he  had  not  the 
slightest  doubt,  and  his  own  recent  experience 
seemed  but  one  more  proof  of  the  correctness 
of  his  facts.  He  looked  with  a  curious  interest 
upon  this  mysterious  yet  simple  Oriental  squat 
ting  idly  on  the  grass,  his  straw  hat  tilted  back 
on  his  head,  the  dark  face  bent  forward,  as  with 
careful  fingers  he  gathered  a  bunch  of  clover. 

"If  this  faculty  never  fails  you  your  knowl 
edge  of  future  events  is  simply  without  limit. 
You  can  tell  about  the  weather,  the  crops,  the 
stock  market,  the  result  of  wars,  marriages, 
births,  and  deaths,  and  who  the  next  president 
is  to  be." 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  answered  quietly,  without 
looking  up. 

Mr.  Cabot  straightened  up  in  his  chair  and 
rubbed  his  chin.  His  credulity  had  reached  its 


AMOS     JUDD 

limit,  yet,  if  he  could  judge  by  the  evidence 
already  presented,  the  young  man  was  adher 
ing  strictly  to  the  truth.  There  followed  a 
silence  during  which  Betty,  who  in  nibbling 
about  had  approached  within  a  few  feet  of 
them.,  held  out  her  head,  and  took  the  clover 
from  Amos.  Mr.  Cabot  brought  a  pencil  and 
piece  of  paper  from  his  pockets.  "I  would  like 
to  try  one  more  experiment,  with  your  per 
mission.  Will  you  write  on  that  paper  what  I 
am  to  do  at  —  well,  say  ten  o'clock  to-night?" 

Amos  took  the  paper  and  closed  his  eyes, 
but  in  a  moment  looked  up  and  said,  "You 
are  in  the  dark  and  I  can  see  nothing." 

"Then  you  have  no  knowledge  of  what  goes 
on  in  the  dark?" 

"No,  sir;  only  of  things  that  I  can  see.  If 
there  is  any  light  at  all  I  can  see  as  if  I  were 
there  in  person,  but  no  better.  To-night  at  ten 
o'clock  you  are  in  your  own  chamber,  and  it  is 
absolutely  black." 

[162] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Then  change  the  hour  to  six  o'clock." 

As  Mr.  Cabot,  a  moment  later,  turned  a 
sidelong  glance  toward  his  friend,  sitting  with 
closed  eyes  before  him,  he  thought  the  little 
mark  upon  his  forehead  had  never  been  so 
distinct.  He  regarded  it  with  a  mild  surprise 
as  it  seemed  almost  aglow;  but  the  sky  was 
becoming  rosy  in  the  west,  and  there  might  be 
a  reflection  from  the  setting  sun.  Amos  wrote 
something  on  a  slip  of  paper,  folded  it  up  and 
returned  it  to  Mr.  Cabot,  who  carefully  tucked 
it  away  in  a  pocket  saying,  "I  shall  not  read  it 
until  six-thirty.  I  will  tell  you  to-morrow  if 
you  are  correct." 

"Oh,  that  is  correct,  sir!  You  need  have  no 
anxiety  on  that  point." 

As  he  spoke  there  passed  slowly  along  the 
road  a  cart  containing  two  men,  and  behind 
the  cart,  securely  fastened,  walked  a  heavy3 
vicious-looking  bull. 

"That  is  an  ugly  brute,"  he  said. 
[  163  J 


AMOS     JUDD 

"So  I  was  just  thinking.  Does  he  belong  in 
the  town?" 

"Yes;  it  is  Barnard's  bull.  Yesterday  he  got 
loose  and  so  mutilated  a  horse  that  it  had  to 
be  shot;  and  within  an  hour  he  tried  his  best 
to  kill  old  Barnard  himself,  which  was  a  good 
undertaking  and  showed  public  spirit.  He  is 
sure  to  have  a  victim  sooner  or  later,  and  it 
certainly  ought  to  be  old  Barnard  if  anybody." 

"Who  is  Barnard?" 

"He  is  the  oyster-eyed,  malignant  old  liar 
and  skinflint  who  lives  in  that  red  house  about 
a  mile  below  here." 

"You  seem  to  like  him." 

"I  hate  him." 

"What  has  he  done  to  you?" 

"Nothing;  but  he  bullies  his  wife,  starves 
his  cattle,  and  cheats  his  neighbors.  Even  as 
a  small  boy  I  knew  enough  to  dislike  him, 
and  whenever  he  went  by  the  house  I  used  to 

stone  him."  , 

[164] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"What  a  pleasant  little  neighbor  you  must 
have  been!  " 

Amos  tried  to  smile,  but  his  anger  was  evi 
dently  too  serious  a  matter  to  be  treated  with 
disrespect.  Mr.  Cabot,  after  regarding  for  a 
moment  the  wrathful  eyes  that  still  followed 
the  bull,  continued: 

"You  are  more  than  half  barbarian,  my  war 
like  farmer.  Must  you  do  physical  damage  to 
everyone  you  dislike?" 

"No,  sir;  but  as  a  rule  I  should  like  to. 
As  for  loving  your  enemies  —  count  me  out. 
I  love  my  friends.  The  man  who  pretends  to 
love  his  enemies  is  either  a  hypocrite  or  a 
poor  hater." 

The  older  man  smiled  at  the  earnestness 
with  which  this  sentence  was  uttered.  "I  am 
afraid,  Mr.  Amos  Judd,  you  are  not  a  Chris 
tian.  Take  my  advice  and  join  a  bible-class 
before  the  devil  gets  his  other  hand  upon 
you." 

[  165] 


AMOS     JUDD 

After  a  few  words  on  other  matters,  Amos 
called  his  mare,  and  departed. 

As  the  hour  of  six  drew  near,  Mr.  Cabot 
made  a  point  of  realizing  that  he  was  a  free 
agent  and  could  do  whatever  he  wished,  and 
he  resolved  that  no  guess,  based  on  a  proba 
bility,  should  prove  correct.  To  assure  himself 
that  there  wras  no  compulsion  or  outside  influ 
ence  of  any  nature,  he  started  first  for  the  barn 
to  execute  a  fantastic  resolve,  then  as  an  addi 
tional  proof  that  he  was  absolutely  his  own 
master,  suddenly  changed  his  mind,  turned 
about,  and  went  upstairs. 

Going  along  a  back  passage  with  no  definite 
intention,  he  paused  at  a  half-open  door,  looked 
in,  and  entered.  The  blinds  were  closed,  but 
between  the  slats  came  bars  of  light  from  the 
western  sun,  illumining  the  little  room,  an  un 
used  chamber,  now  serving  as  a  storehouse  for 
such  trunks  and  sundry  relics  as  had  failed  to 
reach  the  attic.  Mr.  Cabot  noticed  a  rocking- 
[  166] 


AMOS     JUDD 

horse  in  one  corner  and  his  eyes  sparkled  with 
a  new  idea.  After  closing  the  door  he  dragged 
the  steed  from  its  resting-place,  planted  it  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  looked  at  his 
watch.  It  lacked  four  minutes  of  six.  As  he 
prepared  to  mount  he  saw  the  legs  of  a  rag- 
baby  projecting  over  a  shelf,  and  pulling  her 
down,  could  not  restrain  a  smile  as  he  held  her 
in  his  arms.  A  large,  round,  flat,  and  very  pale 
but  dirty  face  was  emphasized  by  fiery  cheeks, 
whose  color,  from  a  want  of  harmony  with  the 
coarse  material  of  her  visage,  had  only  lingered 
in  erratic  blotches.  With  this  lady  in  his  arms 
he  mounted  the  horse,  and,  while  gently  rock 
ing  with  both  feet  on  the  ground,  he  again 
took  out  his  watch  and  found  he  was  just  on 
the  minute  of  six  o'clock.  But  he  kept  his  seat 
for  a  moment  longer,  judging  the  situation  too 
good  to  be  trifled  with,  and  too  unusual  for 
any  ordinary  guess.  Carelessly  he  rocked  a  lit 
tle  faster,  when  a  front  foot  of  his  overladen 
[167] 


AMOS     JUDD 

steed  slipped  from  its  rocker  and  Mr.  Cabot 
nearly  lost  his  balance.  The  damage,,  however, 
he  easily  repaired;  the  rag-baby  was  replaced 
upon  her  shelf,  and  when  he  left  the  little 
room  and  returned  to  his  own  chamber  there 
was  an  expression  upon  his  face  that  seemed 
indicative  of  an  amiable  triumph.  Some  minutes 
later,  with  a  similar  expression,  he  took  from 
his  pocket  the  slip  of  paper  on  which  Amos 
had  written,  read  it  once  with  some  haste, 
then  a  second  time  and  more  carefully. 

The  Hon.  James  Cabot,  one  of  the  most  respected 
residents  of  Daleford,  attempted  at  six  o'clock  to 
elope  with  an  obscure  maiden  of  the  village.  But 
his  horse,  an  animal  with  one  glass  eye  and  no  tail, 
broke  down  before  they  had  fairly  started  and  went 
lame  in  his  off  front  foot. 

For  several  minutes  he  stood  looking  down 
at  the  paper  between  his  fingers,  occasionally 
drawing  a  hand  across  his  forehead.  Then  he 
[168] 


AMOS     JUDD 

refolded  the  paper  and  placing  it  in  his  pocket, 
took  his  hat  and  went  out  into  the  orchard,  to 
think,  and  to  be  alone. 

On  questioning  Amos  he  found  no  more 
light  was  to  be  expected  from  that  quarter, 
as  the  young  man  had  already  expounded  his 
only  theory,  which  was  that  these  visions  were 
but  optional  warnings  of  the  inevitable:  that 
all  was  fore-ordained:  that  there  could  be  no 
variations  in  the  course  of  Fate.  His  mind  was 
not  philosophical;  his  processes  of  reason  were 
simple  and  direct,  and  he  listened  with  pro 
found  interest  to  Mr.  Cabot's  deeper  and  more 
scientific  attempts  at  reaching  a  consistent  ex 
planation.  Little  progress,  however,  was  made 
in  this  direction,  and  the  lawyer  admitted  that 
the  evidence,  so  far,  contradicted  in  no  detail 
his  friend's  belief.  He  also  found  that  Amos, 
although  deeply  concerned  in  the  subject  when 
once  opened,  rarely  introduced  it  himself  or 
referred  to  it  in  any  way;  and  that  he  never 
[169] 


AMOS     JUDD 

employed  his  power  except  in  the  rarest  emer 
gencies. 

Moreover,  the  lawyer  understood  how  such 
a  faculty,  although  of  value  in  certain  cases, 
would,  in  the  great  majority,  be  worse  than 
useless,  while  it  could  not  fail  of  an  overpower 
ing  influence  on  the  being  who  employed  it. 
He  respected  the  strength  of  purpose  that 
enabled  the  young  man  to  keep  it  in  the  back 
ground,  and  he  felt  that  he  had  discovered  at 
least  one  reason  for  the  restless  pleasures  of 
his  youth.  Now,  happily,  he  was  securing  a 
calmer  and  a  healthier  diversion  from  a  life  in 
the  open  air.  As  his  neighbor  became  the  ob 
ject  of  a  deeper  study  it  was  evident  the  con 
flicting  qualities  that  seemed  to  give  such  vary 
ing  colors  to  his  character  were  the  result  of 
these  extraordinary  conditions.  His  occasional 
recklessness  and  indifference  were  now  easily 
explained.  His  disregard  for  religious  obser 
vances  was  in  perfect  harmony  with  an  insight 
[  170] 


AMOS     JUDD 

into  the  workings  of  a  stupendous  fate,  im 
measurably  above  the  burning  of  candles  and 
the  laws  of  ecclesiastical  etiquette.  His  love 
of  exercise,  of  sunshine,  of  every  form  of  plea 
sure  and  excitement,  were  but  the  means  of 
escape  from  the  pursuing  dread  of  an  awful 
knowledge.  And  the  lavish  generosity  that 
often  startled  his  friends  and  bewildered  Dale- 
ford  was  a  trivial  matter  to  one  who,  if  he  cared 
to  peruse  in  advance  the  bulletins  of  the  stock 
exchange,  could  double  his  fortune  in  a  day. 
Off  and  on  through  July  and  a  part  of  Au 
gust  an  unwonted  animation  prevailed  at  the 
Cabots',  extending  at  times  along  the  maples 
to  the  other  house.  Certain  visitors  of  Molly's 
were  the  cause  of  this  gayety,  and  in  their  en 
tertainment  she  found  Amos  a  helpful  friend. 
His  horses,  his  fields,  his  groves,  his  fruits,  his 
flowers,  and  himself,  were  all  at  her  disposal, 
absolutely  and  at  any  time.  A  few  friends  of 
his  owrn  coming  at  the  same  period  proved  a 
[  171  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

welcome  reinforcement,,  and  the  leaves  of  the 
old  maples  rustled  with  a  new  surprise  at  the 
life  and  laughter,  the  movement,  the  color, 
and  the  music  that  enlivened  their  restful 
shades.  And  also  at  night,  during  the  warm 
evenings  when  farmers  were  abed,  the  air  was 
awake  with  melodies  which  floated  off  in  the 
summer  air,  dying  away  among  the  voices  of 
the  frogs  and  turtles  along  the  borders  of  the 
meadow. 

One  warm  afternoon  in  August,  when  there 
were  visitors  at  neither  house,  Amos  and  Molly 
climbed  over  a  wall  into  a  pasture,  for  a 
shorter  cut  toward  home.  The  pasture  was  ex 
tensive,  and  their  course  lay  diagonally  across 
a  long  hill,  beyond  whose  brow  they  could  see 
nothing.  A  crimson  sunshade  and  white  dress 
were  in  dazzling  contrast  to  the  dull  greens 
of  the  pasture,  whose  prevailing  colors  were 
from  rocks  and  withered  grass.  Patches  of  wild 
bushes  where  the  huckleberries  were  in  over- 
[  172  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

whelming  majority  necessitated  either  wide 
detours  or  careful  navigating  among  thorns  and 
briars.  Her  companion  seemed  indifferent  to 
the  painful  fact  that  knickerbockers  are  no 
protection  against  these  enemies.  But  pricks 
in  the  leg  at  the  present  moment  were  too 
trivial  for  notice.  He  was  speaking  with  un 
usual  earnestness,  keeping  close  at  her  side, 
and  now  and  then  looking  anxiously  into  her 
face.  It  may  have  been  the  heat  and  the  exer 
cise  that  drove  the  color  to  her  cheeks,  and 
there  were  also  signs  of  annoyance  as  if  she 
desired  to  escape  him;  but  the  ground  was 
uneven,  and  the  stones  and  bushes  rendered 
haste  impossible.  She  also  appeared  tired,  and 
when  they  stopped  at  intervals  always  turned 
away  her  face,  until  finally,  when  half  across 
the  field,  she  sank  upon  a  rock.  "I  really  must 
rest.  I  am  dreadfully  warm." 

He    stood   beside    her,  facing   in  the   same 
direction,  both  looking  over  the  peaceful  val- 
t  173] 


AMOS     JUDD 

ley  from  which  an  occasional  cow-bell  was  the 
only  sound. 

"It  is  really  a  little  unfair  that  my  old 
record  should  come  between  us.  I  was  only 
twenty  then,  with  no  end  of  money  and  no 
parents  or  guardian  to  look  after  me.  Mr.  Judd 
would  let  rne  do  whatever  I  wished,  and  of 
course  I  sailed  ahead  and  did  everything.  In 
stead  of  having  an  allowance  like  other  fellows 
I  just  asked  for  what  I  wanted,  and  always  got 
it.  And  that  is  death  to  a  boy." 

He  pulled  a  twig  from  a  bush  and  began  to 
bite  the  end  of  it.  If  at  that  instant  he  had 
glanced  down  at  the  face  beside  him,  he  might 
have  detected  an  expression  that  was  not  un 
justly  severe.  There  was  a  distinct  ray  of  sym 
pathy  in  the  eyes  that  were  fixed  thoughtfully 
upon  the  valley. 

"  And  then  all  the  girls  met  me  more  than 
half-way,  as  if  they,  too,  had  conspired  against 
me." 

[  174] 


AMOS     JUDD 

This  was  said  in  a  half-resentful.,  half-plain 
tive  tone,  and  so  delightfully  free  from  any 
boastfulness  that  Molly,,  to  conceal  something 
very  near  a  smile,  bent  her  head  and  picked 
nettles  from  her  skirt. 

"Of  course  I  liked  a  good  time,  there  is  no 
denying  that,  and  I  struck  the  wrong  gang  at 
college.  I  suppose  I  was  weak  —  everlastingly 
and  disgustingly  weak;  but  really  you  might 
make  allowances,  and  anyway  — 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  turned  about. 
Looking  up  she  saw  an  expression  in  his  eyes, 
as  they  gazed  at  something  behind  her,  that 
caused  her  to  spring  to  her  feet  and  also  turn 
about.  As  she  did  so  the  color  left  her  face  and 
her  knees  gave  way  beneath  her.  Instinctively 
she  clutched  his  arm.  Within  twenty  yards  of 
them  stood  Barnard's  bull,  and  in  his  broad 
black  head  and  cruel  horns,  in  the  distended 
nostrils  and  bloodshot  eye,  she  read  the  fury 
of  an  unreasoning  brute;  and  with  it  her  own 
[175] 


AMOS    JUDD 

death  and  mutilation.  Helpless  they  stood  in 
the  open  pasture  with  no  tree  or  refuge  near. 
Amos  cast  a  swift  glance  to  the  right,  to  the 
left,  and  behind  them.  The  bull  lowered  his 
head  just  a  very  little,  and  as  he  stepped 
slowly  forward  she  could  hear  his  breath  in 
impatient  puffs.  Her  brain  began  to  swim  and 
she  closed  her  eyes,  but  a  sharp  word  and  a 
rough  shake  brought  her  back  with  a  start. 

" Do  just  as  I  tell  you.  Turn  and  walk  slowly 
off  to  the  wall  at  the  right.  Then  climb  over. 
Don't  run  till  I  say  so.  Give  me  your  parasol." 

He  twisted  her  about  and  gave  her  a  push. 

" Don't  look  around." 

Gasping,  faint,  and  so  weak  from  terror  that 
she  could  hardly  direct  her  steps,  she  did  as 
she  was  told.  In  her  dazed  mind  there  was  no 
conception  of  time  or  distance,  but,  a  moment 
after,  hearing  a  snort  from  the  bull  and  the 
quick  pounding  of  his  feet,  she  stopped  and 
turned.  She  expected  to  see  Amos  on  the  crea- 
[  176  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

hire's  horns,  but  Amos  was  running  in  the 
other  direction,  so  far  safe,  although  scarcely 
his  own  length  ahead.  In  an  instant  she  saw  to 
her  horror  that,  although  a  nimble  runner,  he 
was  losing  distance  with  every  spring  of  the 
bull.  But  with  a  presence  of  mind  that  did 
much  toward  renewing  her  own  courage,  he 
kept  looking  over  his  shoulder,  and  when  fur 
ther  running  was  hopeless,  he  jumped  swiftly 
to  one  side,  the  side  up  the  hill,  and  the  pon 
derous  brute  plunged  on  for  several  feet  before 
he  could  come  to  a  stop.  Amos  looked  at  once 
in  her  direction,  and  when  he  saw  her  he 
shook  his  hand  and  cried,  in  an  angry  voice: 
"Run!  Run!  Your  life  depends  011  it!" 
There  was  no  time  to  say  more,  for  the  bull 
had  wheeled  and  was  again  coming  toward 
him.  Molly  turned  and  ran  as  she  never  ran 
before,  and  never  before  did  so  many  thoughts 
flash  through  her  mind.  Above  all  came  the 
torturing  regret  that  she  could  be  of  no  pos- 
[177] 


AMOS     JUDD 

sible  service  to  the  man  who,  at  that  moment 
perhaps,  was  giving  up  his  life  for  hers.  Leap 
ing  rocks,  stumbling  over  hillocks,  tearing 
through  bushes,  she  finally  reached  the  wall, 
scrambled  up  and  over  as  best  she  could,  then, 
with  a  throbbing  heart  and  pallid  face,  looked 
back  into  the  field. 

They  were  farther  up  the  hill,  and  Amos 
had  evidently  just  jumped  aside,  for  again  the 
bull  and  he  were  facing  each  other.  The  ani 
mal  was  advancing  slowly  toward  him,  head 
down,  with  an  angry  lashing  of  the  tail  and 
occasional  snorts  that  drove  the  blood  from  the 
spectator's  heart.  As  Amos  retreated  slowly, 
his  face  to  the  animal,  she  saw  him  look  swiftly 
in  her  direction,  then  back  at  the  bull.  Faster 
and  faster  the  animal  came  toward  him,  and 
when  finally  he  bounded  forward  on  a  run 
Amos  turned  and  ran  for  his  life.  He  was  now 
making  for  this  side  of  the  pasture,  but  she 
saw  with  the  keenest  anguish  that  all  his  elas- 
[178] 


AMOS     JUDD 

ticity  had  departed,  that  he  was  losing  ground 
much  faster  than  at  first.  That  he  should  show 
signs  of  exhaustion  caused  her  no  surprise,  for 
the  ground  wras  rough,  low  briars  and  bushes 
concealing  rocks  of*  treacherous  shapes  and 
varying  sizes,  and  the  race  was  harder  for  the 
man  than  for  the  bull.  The  distance  between 
them  was  being  lessened  with  a  rapidity  that 
might  end  the  struggle  without  a  second's 
warning,  and  the  horns  were  now  within  a 
yard  of  his  heels.  Again  he  jumped  to  one  side, 
but  this  time  it  brought  a  cry  of  agony  from 
beyond  the  wall.  His  foot  slipped,  and  instead 
of  landing  a  yard  or  more  from  the  creature's 
path,  he  measured  his  length  upon  the  ground. 
The  bull  lowered  his  head  and  plunged  sav 
agely  upon  him.  The  horns  grazed  the  pros 
trate  body,  and  the  heavy  brute,  by  his  own 
impetus,  dashed  a  dozen  yards  beyond.  Amos 
raised  first  his  head  and  shoulders,  then 
climbed  to  his  feet,  slowly,  like  one  bewildered 
[  179] 


AMOS     JUDD 

or  in  pain.  He  stood  cautiously  upon  his  legs  as 
if  uncertain  of  their  allegiance,  but  he  still 
clutched  the  crimson  sunshade.  The  bull,  with 
fiery  nostrils  and  bloodshot  eyes,  once  more 
came  on,  and  Amos  started  for  the  wall.  It 
was  evident  to  the  one  spectator  that  his 
strength  was  gone.  With  every  jump  of  the 
thing  behind  him  he  was  losing  ground,  and 
the  awful  end  was  near,  and  coming  swiftly. 
She  sank  against  the  wall  and  clutched  it,  for 
the  sky  and  pasture  were  beginning  to  revolve 
before  her  straining  eyes.  But  Amos,  instead 
of  coming  straight  for  the  wall,  bore  down  the 
hill.  With  the  hot  breath  close  upon  his  heels, 
he  opened  the  crimson  sunshade,  jumped  aside, 
and  thrust  it  upon  the  pursuing  horns:  then 
without  looking  back  he  made  a  bee-line  for 
the  wall.  It  was  skilfully  done,  and  for  one 
precious  moment  the  seeming  victor  was  de 
layed  by  goring  the  infuriating  color;  but  only 
for  a  moment.  He  saw  his  enemy  escaping  and 
[  180  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

bounded  in  pursuit.  This  time,  however,  he 
missed  him  by  a  dozen  feet  and  saw  him  vault 
the  barrier  into  safety.  The  wall  he  accepted 
as  a  conclusion,,  but  he  stood  close  against  it, 
looking  over  in  sullen  anger,  frothing,  hot- 
eyed,  and  out  of  breath. 

Then  he  witnessed  a  scene,  to  him  of  little 
interest,  but  which  signified  much  to  another 
person.  He  saw  the  girl,  anxious,  pale,  with  dis 
ordered  hair,  eagerly  approach  the  exhausted 
runner;  then,  nervously  pressing  a  hand  to 
her  cheek,  she  bent  forward  and  asked  a  ques 
tion.  The  young  man,  who  was  leaning  against 
a  tree  and  seemed  to  have  trouble  with 
his  breathing,  suddenly,  with  a  joyful  face, 
stretched  forth  his  hands,  and  with  even  more 
eagerness  than  her  own,  asked  in  his  turn  a 
question,  whereupon  the  color  rushed  to  her 
face.  Looking  down,  then  up  at  him,  then 
down  again,  she  smiled  and  muttered  some 
thing,  and  he,  without  waiting  for  further 


AMOS     JUDD 

words,  seized  her  in  his  arms,  and  with  one 
hand  holding  her  chin,  kissed  her  mouth  and 
cheeks,  not  once  but  many  times.  But  she 
pushed  away  from  him,  flushed  and  possibly 
angry.  However,  it  could  not  have  been  a 
deep-seated  or  lasting  anger,  for  she  created 
no  disturbance  when  he  took  one  of  her  hands 
in  both  of  his  and  made  a  little  speech.  It  ap 
peared  an  interesting  discourse,  although  she 
looked  down  and  off,  and  all  about,  at  every 
thing  except  at  him,  smiling  and  changing 
color  all  the  wrhile.  He  seemed  foolishly  happy, 
and  when  a  moment  later  he  wished  to  assist 
in  rearranging  her  hair,  he  was  not  depressed 
because  the  offer  was  declined  with  contempt. 
Then  the  young  man  took  a  few  steps  to 
ward  the  wall,  and  stood  facing  the  huge  head 
whose  bloodshot  eyes  were  still  upon  him.  As 
he  lifted  his  hand  there  was  a  hitch  in  the 
motion,  and  a  spasm  of  pain  drew  down  a  cor 
ner  of  his  mouth,  but  the  girl  behind  him 


AMOS     JUDD 

could  not  see  this.  He  raised  his  cap  and 
saluted  his  adversary. 

"I  thank  you,  Bull,  for  chasing  me  into 
Molly  Cabot's  heart." 

Then  he  turned,  and  hand  in  hand,  the  two 
people  disappeared  among  the  pines. 


VIII 

A 'CORDING  to  habit,  Mr.  Cabot  composed 
himself  by  the  library  table  that  even 
ing  for  an  hour's  reading  before  going  to  bed, 
but  the  book  was  soon  lifted  from  his  grasp 
and  Molly  seated  herself  in  his  lap.  Although 
fingers  were  inserted  between  his  collar  and 
neck  as  a  warning  that  the  closest  attention 
was  expected,  there  followed  a  short  silence 
before  any  words  were  uttered.  Then  she  told 
him  all:  of  being  face  to  face  with  Barnard's 
bull;  of  the  narrow  escape;  of  how  Amos  re 
mained  alone  in  the  open  field,  and  lastly,  she 
gave  the  substance  of  what  the  rescuer  had 
said  to  her,  and  that  she  had  promised  to  be 
his  wife.  But  on  condition  that  her  father 
should  consent. 

He  received  the  news  gravely;  confessed  he 
was  not  so  very  much  surprised,  although  he 
had  hoped  it  would  come  a  little  later.  And 
[   18*1 


AMOS     JUDD 

she  was  very  happy  to  find  he  made  no  objec 
tion  to  Amos  as  a  son-in-law,  and  to  hear  him 
praise  his  character  and  pronounce  him  an 
honest,  manly  fellow.  His  behavior  with  the 
bull  was  heroic,  but  did  not  she  think  the 
reward  he  demanded  was  exorbitant?  Was 
it  not  a  little  greedy  to  ask  as  a  price  for 
his  services  the  entire  value  of  the  rescued 
property?  It  certainly  was  not  customary  to 
snatch  away  the  object  before  placing  it  in 
the  owner's  hands.  "But  he  risked  his  life 
to  save  yours,  and  for  that  he  shall  have 
anything  I  own." 

The  following  morning,  as  she  stepped  upon 
the  piazza,  the  doctor's  buggy  came  down  the 
opposite  avenue  and  turned  toward  the  village. 
Could  old  Mrs.  Judd  be  ill?  or  was  it  one  of 
the  servants? 

An  hour  later,  as  there  were  still  no  signs 
of  her  bull-fighter  she  began  to  feel  a  slight 
annoyance.  Perhaps  after  sleeping  upon  the 
[  185  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

events  of  yesterday  his  enthusiasm  had  cooled. 
Perhaps  his  exceptionally  wide  experience  in 
this  field  had  taught  him  that  the  most  deli 
cate  way  out  of  such  dilemmas  was  to  give  the 
girl  the  initiative,  and  perhaps,  now  that  he 
was  sure  she  loved  him,  all  the  fun  had  de 
parted.  Perhaps,  in  short,  he  was  now  realizing 
that  he  had  committed  himself.  Although  none 
of  these  suspicions  took  a  serious  hold  there 
was  a  biting  of  the  nether  lip  and  a  slight 
flush  upon  the  cheeks  as  she  re-entered  the 
house:  and  in  order  that  he  might  not  suspect, 
when  he  did  come,  that  his  delay  had  caused 
the  slightest  feeling,  or  that  anyone  had 
watched  for  him,  she  returned  to  her  room. 
A  few  moments  later  a  note  was  brought  in 
which  was  received  with  indifference,  but 
which,  after  Maggie's  departure  she  opened 
with  nervous  fingers. 


[186] 


AMOS     JUDD 

MY  GIRL:  That  bull,  God  bless  him! 
smashed  two  of  my  ribs,  the  doctor 
says,  but  I  know  better.  They  were  broken  by 
an  outward  force,  a  sudden  expansion  of  the 
heart,  and  I  felt  them  going  when  you  came 
into  a  pair  of  arms. 

Please  come  over,  or  I  shall  fly  away,  as  I 
feel   the   sprouting  of  wings,   and   there   is  a 

cracking  among  the  other  ribs. 

AMOS. 

She  went,  and  although  their  conversation 
that  morning  touched  upon  ribs  and  anatomy, 
it  would,  if  taken  as  a  whole,  have  been  of 
little  value  to  a  scientist.  It  was  distinctly  per 
sonal.  The  one  sentiment  which  appeared  to 
have  an  irresistible  fascination  for  the  bull 
fighter  and  his  fiancee  colored  all  remarks, 
and  the  fact  that  the  dialogue  would  have 
caused  them  the  most  intense  mortification  if 
made  public,  tended  in  no  degree  to  lessen 
their  enjoyment.  To  a  middle-aged  person  who 
[  187  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

had  never  been  in  love  it  would  have  been 
unendurable. 

Later  in  the  day  she  intercepted  the  doctor 
and  learned  as  much  as  possible  of  the  pa 
tient's  condition.  Two  ribs  were  badly  broken, 
he  said;  had  been  pressed  inward  to  a  serious 
extent,  but  so  far  there  were  no  indications 
of  internal  injuries.  Of  this,  however,  he  could 
not  at  present  be  absolutely  sure,  but  he 
thought  there  was  no  great  cause  for  alarm. 
The  patient,  of  course,  must  keep  quiet  for  a 
week  or  two. 

Fortunately  for  Amos  there  proved  to  be  no 
injury  save  the  damaged  ribs,  but  three  long 
weeks  elapsed  before  he  was  allowed  to  go  up 
and  down  stairs  and  move  about  the  house. 

The  last  day  of  August  proved  a  day  of  dis 
coveries. 

It  was  bright  and  warm,  yet  invigorating, 
the  perfection  of  terrestrial  weather,  and  Mr. 
Cabot  and  Molly,  early  in  the  afternoon,  were 
[  188  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

sitting  upon  the  piazza  discussing  the  date  of 
their  departure,  Amos  occupying  his  favorite 
place  upon  the  floor  in  front  of  them,  his  back 
against  a  column.  When  she  informed  her 
father  that  additional  trunks  or  boxes  of  some 
kind  would  be  needed,  Amos  said  that  such 
articles  were  going  to  waste  in  the  Judd  resi 
dence,  and  if  she  would  but  step  across  the 
way  and  select  a  few,  it  would  be  a  lasting 
benefit  to  an  overcrowded  attic.  This  offer  was 
accepted  and  they  started  off.  After  climbing 
the  final  stairs,  which  were  steep  and  narrow, 
Molly  seated  herself  upon  an  old-fashioned 
settle,  the  back  of  which  could  be  lowered  and 
used  as  an  ironing  table.  "How  I  do  love  this 
smell  of  an  attic!  Is  it  the  sap  from  the  hot 
pine?  And  isn't  there  sage  in  the  air,  or  sum 
mer  savory?" 

"Both.  With  a  few  old  love-letters  and  a 
touch  of  dried  apples." 

"Whatever  it  is,  I  love  it.  The  days  of  my 


AMOS     JUDD 

childhood  come  galloping  back/'  and  with 
upturned  face  she  closed  her  eyes  and  drew 
a  longer  breath.  He  bent  silently  over  and 
touched  her  lips. 

"What  a  breach  of  hospitality!" 

"When  a  visitor  insults  a  host  by  sleeping  in 
his  presence,,  it  is  etiquette  to  awaken  her.  And 
when  lips  with  those  particular  undulations 
look  one  pleasantly  in  the  eye  and  say  '  Amos, 
kiss  us/  what  do  you  expect  to  happen?" 

"From  you  I  expect  the  worst,  the  most 
improper  thing." 

ee And  you  will  always  get  it,  O  spirit  of  old- 
fashioned  Roses!" 

In  opening  a  window  he  disturbed  an  enor 
mous  fly,  whose  buzzing  filled  every  corner  of 
the  roof.  "To  me,"  he  said,  "this  atmosphere 
recalls  long  marches  and  battles,  with  splendid 
victories  and  awful  defeats." 

"I  don't  see  why.  To  me  it  seems  delight 
fully  restful." 

[  19°] 


AMOS     JUDD 

From  an  ancient  horse-hair  trunk  he  brought 
forth  a  box,  and  seating  himself  at  her  feet, 
emptied  its  contents  upon  the  floor. 

"This  is  why/'  and  he  arranged  in  parallel 
lines  the  little  leaden  soldiers,  diminutive  can 
nons,  some  with  wheels  and  some  without, 
and  a  quantity  of  dominos,  two  by  two.  "These 
are  troops,  and  if  you  care  to  know  how  I 
passed  the  rainy  days  of  boyhood  this  will 
show  you." 

"But,  what  are  the  dominos?" 

"They  are  the  enemy.  These  lead  soldiers 
are  mine,  and  they  are  all  veterans,  and  all 
brave.  This  is  myself,"  and  he  held  up  a  bent 
and  battered  relic  on  a  three-legged  horse. 

"And  who  are  you  in  these  fights,  Goosey?" 

"Napoleon,  generally;  often  Caesar  and 
Frederick,  and  sometimes  George  Washington 
and  General  Lee." 

"  But  you  have  no  head.   Is  n't  that  a  draw 
back  for  a  commander?" 
[191  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Not  with  troops  like  these.  I  lost  that  head 
at  Quebec,  as  Montcalm." 

She  looked  down  upon  him  with  a  wish  that 
she  also  might  have  been  one  of  those  absurd 
little  soldiers  and  shared  his  victories. 

"The  cracks  between  the  floor-boards/'  he 
continued,  "are  railroads,  rivers,  canals,  stone 
walls,  or  mountain  ranges,  according  to  the 
campaign." 

"They  must  have  been  a  nuisance,  though. 
Could  not  a  soldier  disappear  and  not  return?" 

tel  should  say  he  could!  Why,  those  ravines 
are  gorged  with  heroes,  and  that  recalls  the 
most  humiliating  event  of  my  career.  I  was 
leading  the  charge  of  the  Light  Brigade,  six 
of  these  cavalrymen,  each  representing  a  hun 
dred  men.  I  of  course  was  in  front,  and  it  was 
a  supreme  moment.  As  we  dashed  across  the 
open  field — the  cracks,  mind  you,  did  n't  count 
this  time  —  I,  the  leader,  suddenly  disappeared, 
head  downward,  feet  up,  in  an  open  field!  Of 
[  192  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

course  the  charge  could  not  stop,  and  the 
others  rushed  on  to  a  magnificent  death." 

With  a  sigh  he  gathered  the  motley  com 
pany  together  again,  and  laid  them  away  in 
their  box.  She  got  up  and  moved  about.  "I 
should  like  to  live  in  an  attic.  It  is  mysterious 
and  poetic,  and  so  crammed  with  history.  Each 
of  these  things  has  its  little  story  for  some 
body,"  and  she  stopped  before  a  curious  feminine 
garment  in  India  silk,  of  a  long-ago  fashion. 

Pointing  to  a  quaint  old  cap  with  ear-laps, 
she  exclaimed,  "What  a  funny  rig  that  is!  Put 
it  on."  And  she  took  it  from  its  peg  and  placed 
it  upon  his  head,  then  laughed  and  led  him  to 
a  broken  mirror  that  was  hanging  from  a 
rafter.  "Unless  you  wear  it  in  New  York  next 
winter,  I  shall  never  marry  you!" 

"Then  I  promise,  but  at  present  it  is  a  trifle 
warm." 

As  he  removed  it  a  letter  slipped  from  the 
lining  and  fell  to  the  floor.  She  picked  it  up 
[  193  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

and  turned  it  over  in  her  fingers.  "Why,  it 
has  never  been  opened!  It  is  directed  to  Mr. 
Josiah  Judd." 

Amos  examined  it,  studied  the  date,  then 
looked  at  the  old  cap.  "He  wore  this  at  the 
time  of  his  death,  when  he  had  just  come  from 
the  post-office,  and  the  Daleford  postmark  says 
December  fifth,  the  very  day  before.  That  is 
very  curious."  And  he  stood  looking  down  at 
the  letter,  deep  in  thought. 

"Why  don't  you  open  it?  You  are  the  one 
who  should  do  it,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"Where  is  it  from?" 

"  India.  From  Mr.  Morton  Judd,  his  brother, 
the  one  who  sent  me  here." 

"Oh,  yes!  I  remember.  Is  Mr.  Morton  Judd 
alive?" 

"No,  he  died  ten  years  ago." 

"Well,  please  open  it,  for  it  may  be  interest 
ing.  Come  over  near  the  light." 
[  194] 


AMOS     JUDD 

As  they  stood  by  the  open  window,  leaning 
against  the  sill,  he  tore  open  the  envelope  and 
began  reading  aloud,  she  looking  idly  out  upon 
some  haymakers  in  a  neighboring  field.  Their 
voices  came  faintly  to  her  ears,  and  they  made 
a  pleasant  picture  in  the  afternoon  sunlight 
with  the  village  spires,  the  tall  elms,  and  the 
purple  hills  for  a  background.  She  wondered  if 
India  was  at  all  like  New  England. 

DEAR  JOSIAH:  The  case  ought  to  reach 
you  about  a  fortnight  after  this  letter, 
and  if  you  will  write  to  Mr.  Wharton,  or  better 
still,  visit  him,  he  will  see  that  there  is  110 
trouble  at  the  Custom  House.  Give  my  love  to 
Sarah,  but  don't  show  her  the  shawl  and  the 
silks  before  her  birthday,  in  January.  What  you 
say  about  the  boy  Amos  does  not  surprise  me, 
and  I  was  only  waiting  for  you  to  make  your 
own  discoveries.  He  gave  clear  indications 
when  a  very  small  child  of  this  same  faculty 
[  195] 


AMOS     JUDD 

in  which  his  mother  and  the  rest  of  his  family 
had  great  faith.  In  the  box  you  will  receive  I 
send  a  book  giving  an  account  of  the  Rajah 
Sirdar  Sing,  his  ancestor,  a  hero  of  prophetic 
powers  who  died  ninety-eight  years  ago,  so 
this  boy,  according  to  tradition,  should  inherit 
the  same  supernatural  faculties.  Be  careful  that 
he  does  not  see  this  book  before  coming  of 
age,  as  it  might  put  dangerous  ideas  into  his 
head,  and  if  he  should  suspect  what  he  really 
is  great  mischief  might  ensue.  I  am  glad  he 
is  turning  out  such  a  sensible  boy.  But  if  he 
should  ever  come  over  here  and  make  himself 
known  it  would  cause  a  great  disturbance,  and 
might  result  fatally  to  himself.  Am  sorry  to 
hear  about  Phil  Bates's  wife.  She  was  a  fool  to 
marry  him.  Your  affectionate  brother, 

MORTON  JUDD. 

Amos  stood  looking  down  at  the  letter  and 
remained  silent.  She  laid  a  hand  upon  his  arm 
[196] 


AMOS     JUDD 

and  said,  "What  does  it  mean,  Amos,  about 
not  letting  you  know  who  you  are?  Who  are 
you?" 

He  looked  up  with  a  smile.  "I  don't  know; 
I  can  only  guess." 

"Well,  what  do  you  guess?" 

"I  guess  that  I  am  the  rajah  of  that  prov 
ince." 

"Really?  Why,  you  don't  mean  it!  And  have 
you  always  known  it?" 

"I  don't  know  it  now,  but  I  have  always  sus 
pected  it." 

"You  funny  old  thing!  Why,  this  is  awfully 
exciting!  And  you  never  told  me!" 

"Why  should  I?  Your  father  would  only 
have  hastened  my  departure  if  I  had  tried  to 
pass  myself  off  as  a  fairy  prince ;  and  you  would 
have  laughed  in  my  face." 

"No.  I  am  not  so  sure.  But  that  was  long 
ago,  and  to-day  I  should  believe  anything  you 
told  me." 

[»97] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Well,  I  believe  you  would/'  and  there,  at 
the  open  window,  he  put  his  arm  about  her 
waist  and  did  that  unnecessary  thing  true 
lovers  seem  unable  to  resist.  She  jumped  away 
to  turn  with  an  anxious  face  and  look  cau 
tiously  through  the  window.  But  the  distant 
haymakers  gave  no  signs  of  having  received  a 
shock. 

"Could  they  have  seen?"  she  demanded. 

He  looked  over  upon  the  sunlit  field.  "No, 
poor  things,  they  missed  it!" 

But  Molly  moved  away  and  seated  herself 
upon  a  venerable  little  horse-hair  trunk  whose 
bald  spots  were  numerous  and  of  considerable 
extent.  Brass-headed  nails,  now  black  with 
age,  studded  all  its  edges  and  formed  at  each 
end  the  initials  of  Josiah  Judd. 

"Tell  me,  little  Amos,  what  happened  to 
you  as  a  child,  that  you  should  consider  your 
self  a  fairy  prince." 

The  trunk  was  short  for  two,  but  Amos,  by 
[  198  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

a  little  pushing  and  crowding,  managed  to  sit 
beside  her. 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  I  was  always  too 
wise  and  too  amiable  for  an  ordinary  mor — 

"No,  no!  Be  serious." 

"Well,  almost  everything  I  remember  seems 
to  point  in  that  direction.  For  instance,  there 
was  a  separate  seat  for  me  on  swell  occasions; 
a  sort  of  throne,  I  should  say,  and  all  the  other 
people  stood  up.  In  the  big  hall  I  told  you 
about  where  the  fight  took  place,  I  used  to  sit 
in  an  ivory  chair  with  gold  ornaments  on  it, 
cocked  up  on  a  platform  apart  from  other  peo 
ple.  And  that  afternoon  I  wras  walking  across 
the  hall  toward  it  when  the  fierce-looking 
chap  with  the  beard  caught  me  up  and  passed 
me  along." 

"Gracious!  This  is  very  exciting!  Go  on." 

"I  could  give  you  this  sort  of  stuff  by  the 
yard   if  the    conditions    were    favorable.    The 
conditions  now  are  unfavorable." 
[  199  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

Their  eyes  met,  but  experience  had  taught 
her  caution.  "Go  on.  There  are  no  rajahs  in 
America,  and  you  will  do  as  I  tell  you." 

"That  is  very  true,  but  we  are  too  far 
apart." 

"And  all  the  while  you  are  crowding  me  off 
this  trunk!" 

"Yes,  but  at  the  same  time  I  am  holding 
you  on.  Do  you  see  that  old  rocking-chair 
over  there  with  one  arm  that  is  beckoning  to 
us?" 

There  followed  a  brief,  illogical  discussion, 
then  finally  a  gentle  force  was  used  by  the 
stronger  party,  and  a  moment  later  the  old 
chair  groaned  beneath  a  heavier  burden  than 
it  had  borne  for  thirty  years. 

After  persistent  urging  the  reminiscences 
were  continued.  "They  always  helped  me  first 
at  table,  no  matter  how  old  the  other  guests 
were,  or  how  many  or  how  swell.  The  bowing 
and  saluting  was  much  more  elaborate  toward 
[  200  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

me  than  toward  anyone  else,  and  in  proces 
sions  they  always  stuck  me  in  front.  Shortly 
after  my  father  died  there  was  a  grand  cere 
mony  in  a  sort  of  courtyard  with  awnings  over 
us,  and  I  remember  what  an  everlasting  affair 
it  was,  and  how  my  uncle  and  an  old  general 
stood  behind  my  chair,  while  all  the  swells  and 
panjandrums  came  up  and  saluted  me,  then 
passed  along.  I  should  say  there  might  have 
been  a  million.  I  know  I  went  to  sleep  and 
my  uncle  kept  tapping  me  on  the  shoulder  to 
keep  me  awrake." 

"You  poor  little  thing!  But  you  must  really 
have  been  something  tremendously  important, 
mustn't  you?" 

"It  seems  so." 

"Well,  go  on." 

"  After  that  there  were  some  big  reviews, 

and  I  sat  on  a  white  pony  with  officers  in  a 

semicircle  behind  me,  while  the  troops  marched 

by,  and  the  generals  and  colonels  all  saluted. 

[201   ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

That  was  great  fun.  And  I  shall  never  forget 
my  saddle  of  crimson  leather  with  the  gold 
trimmings." 

"How  romantic!  Why,  it  seems  impossible!" 

"Do  you  remember  the  head-dress  in  my 
mother's  miniature?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  I  find  that  sort  of  thing  is  only  worn 
by  royalty." 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  old 
chair  rocked  gently  to  and  fro,  but  noisily,  as 
if  in  protest  against  its  double  burden,  while 
the  voices  from  the  neighboring  field  came 
drifting  in  the  window  and  with  them  the 
occasional  tinkling  of  a  cow-bell. 

"  And  to  think  of  your  being  here  in  Con 
necticut,  a  farmer!" 

"Thank  heaven  I  am!"  and  there  followed 

one  of  those  foolish  but  apparently  enjoyable 

scenes  which  no  dignified  historian  is  expected 

to  describe.  Stepping  away  from  the  rocking- 

[  202  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

chair  Molly  turned  with  a  frown  upon  its  re 
maining  occupant  as  she  pressed  an  escaping 
lock  into  position.  Through  the  open  window 
the  setting  sun  sent  a  bar  of  light  across  the 
attic  that  illumined  her  hair  with  a  golden 
touch. 

"We  must  find  that  book/'  she  exclaimed, 
with  an  impatient  gesture.  "It  will  tell  us  the 
very  things  we  wish  to  know.  Come,  get  up, 
and  hunt!" 

Slowly  rocking,  with  his  head  resting  against 
the  chair,  he  regarded  her  with  admiring  eyes, 
but  showed  no  signs  of  haste.  "There  is  but 
one  book  I  care  to  study,  and  that  is  a  poem  in 
pink,  about  five  feet  six  in  length,  with  gilt 
edges  at  the  top." 

She  smiled  sadly.  "  No,  not  a  poem,  but  very 
ordinary  prose,  and  you  will  get  precious  little 
wisdom  from  studying  it." 

"On  the  contrary,  every  page  is  a  revelation. 
Why,  the  binding  alone  is  a  poem!  Merely 


AMOS    JUDD 

to  hold  it  in  one's  lap  and  look  at  the  cover 
is  a  gentle  intoxication." 

Wavering  between  a  smile  and  a  frown,,  she 
answered : 

"I  wonder  if  all  rajahs  are  such  transparent 
flatterers.  But  come!  Find  the  book!  It  must 
be  downstairs  in  the  library." 

"No,  it  is  not  down  there.  I  know  every 
book  among  them." 

"Where  can  it  be,,  then?  tucked  away  in 
some  trunk  or  drawer?" 

"Probably." 

"Could  it  be  in  that?"  and  she  pointed  to 
an  old  cherry-wood  desk  just  behind  him.  He 
turned  and  regarded  it. 

"As  likely  there  as  anywhere.  It  is  the  desk 
he  used  until  he  died." 

Molly  opened  the   slanting  top  and  found 

an  array  of  pigeonholes  filled  with  old  papers. 

There  were   some   very   small  drawers,  all   of 

which    she    opened,    but    they    contained   no 

[  204  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

book,  so  she  closed  the  top  and  opened  the 
long  upper  drawer.  It  was  almost  empty,  the 
only  contents  being  a  few  envelopes  of  seeds, 
some  tools,  scattered  cards,  and  a  couple  of 
marbles  that  ran  about  as  the  drawer  was 
opened. 

"I  rather  think  you  know  this  place,"  and 
she  lifted  up  a  bladeless  jackknife.  "Only  a 
boy. could  treat  a  knife  in  such  a  way." 

"Yes,  I  remember  all  those  things.  That 
wooden  pistol  has  killed  lots  of  Indians." 

The  second  drawer  held  among  other  things 
a  camel' s-hair  shawl,  a  bed-cover,  a  pair  of  wo 
man's  slippers,  a  huge  shell-comb  elaborately 
carved,  some  black  mits,  and  a  package  of  let 
ters;  almost  everything  except  a  book.  The 
third  drawer  and  the  fourth  were  equally  dis 
appointing.  The  lowest  drawer  was  deeper  and 
heavier,  and  it  stuck.  Amos  sprang  to  help  her, 
and  together  they  pulled  it  open,  then  sat 
down  upon  the  floor  in  front  of  it.  The  char- 
[  205  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

acter  of  its  contents  was  much  like  the  others, 
but  Molly  delved  thoroughly  among  its  trea 
sures  and  she  received  her  reward.  As  her 
hand  was  exploring  a  farther  corner  she  looked 
up  into  his  face  with  a  look  of  excitement. 

"Here  is  a  book!  It  must  be  the  one!"  and 
a  little  volume  was  drawn  forth. 

"fThe  Heroes  of  India!'  aren't  we  in  luck!" 

It  was  a  handsome  little  book,  with  a  blue 
morocco  cover  and  gilt  edges,  published  in 
Calcutta.  Turning  over  the  leaves  with  eager 
fingers  she  came  to  a  bookmark  opposite  a 
portrait,  a  steel  engraving,  showing  the  head 
and  shoulders  of  a  bejewelled  prince. 

"Why,  it  might  be  you!  It  is  exactly  like 
you!  Look!"  and  she  held  it  before  him. 

"So  it  is,  but  perhaps  they  all  are.  Let's 
hear  about  him  if  you  are  sure  he  is  our  man." 

"Oh,  I  am  sure  of  it!  He  is  the  image  of 
you  and  the  others  are  not;"  and  she  began 
to  read. 

[  206  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"Of  all  the  royal  families  in  India,  none 
claim  an  existence  more  remote  than  that  of 
the  Maharaja  Sirdar  Oumra  Sing.  According  to 
accepted  history  and  tradition,  this  princely 
house  not  only  dates  back  to  the  earliest  cen 
turies  of  Eastern  history,  but  owes  its  origin  to 
the  immortal  Vishn'u  himself.  It  is  a  romantic 
story,  in  fact  the  survival  of  an  ancient  fable, 
poetic  and  supernatural,  but,  curiously  enough, 
seems  to  be  substantiated  by  the  extraordinary 
attributes  of  a  recent  ruler.  The  Rajah  Sirdar 
Sing,  whose  portrait  heads  this  article,  was 
perhaps  the  most  popular  hero  of  Northern 
India,  and  unless  we  eject  the  evidence  of  all 
his  contemporaries,  was  possessed  of  powers 
that  brought  him  the  most  startling  victories 
both  in  peace  and  war,  and  over  adversaries 
that  were  considered  invincible.  His  kingdom, 
during  his  reign  of  thirty  years,  was  nearly 
doubled  in  territory  and  enormously  increased 
in  wealth.  In  his  own  country  to-day  there 
[  207  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

are  none  who  question  his  prophetic  powers: 
men  of  science  and  of  letters,  historians,  high 
priests,  lawyers,  soldiers,  all  firmly  believe  in 
his  immortal  gifts.  To  us  Europeans,  however, 
these  tales  are  more  difficult  of  acceptance. 

"In  the  very  centre  of  Sirdar  Sing's  fore 
head  the  reader  may  have  observed  a  faint 
spot  scarcely  half  an  inch  in  diameter,  and 
this  appeared,  we  are  told,  like  a  scar  or  a 
burn,  of  a  lighter  color  than  the  skin  and, 
except  under  certain  conditions,  was  barely 
noticeable.  But  the  tradition  runs  that  when 
exercising  his  prophetic  faculty  this  little  spot 
increased  in  brilliancy  and  almost  glowed,  as 
if  of  flame." 

"And  so  does  yours!"  and  she  regarded 
him  with  a  look  of  awe. 

"Go  ahead,"  he  said,  looking  down  at  the 
book.  "Let  us  hear  the  rest." 

[  208  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"The  legend  is  this: 

"When  Vishn'u  in  his  Kr'ishn'a-Avatara,  or 
eighth  incarnation,  was  hard-pressed  in  his 
war  against  the  Kurus,  he  received  great  as 
sistance  from  Arjuna,  a  Pan'd'u  prince  who, 
after  a  four  days'  battle,  and  at  great  risk  to 
himself,  delivered  to  his  immortal  ally  the  sa 
cred  city  of  Dwaraka.  For  this  service  and  in 
token  of  his  undying  gratitude,  Vishn'u  laid 
his  finger  upon  the  forehead  of  Arjuna  and  en 
dowed  him  with  a  knowledge  of  future  events, 
also  promising  that  once  in  a  hundred  years  a 
descendant  should  possess  this  priceless  gift. 
Although  we  may  not  accept  this  romantic 
tale,  there  is  no  doubt  whatever  that  Sirdar 
Sing,  the  original  of  our  portrait,  was  guided 
by  a  knowledge  of  the  future,  either  earthly 
or  divine,  which  neither  scientists  nor  histo 
rians  have  yet  explained.  The  next  in  order  to 
inherit  this  extraordinary  faculty,  if  there  is 
truth  in  the  legend,  will  be  the  son  of  the 
[  209  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

present  rajah,  whose  nuptials  have  just  been 
celebrated  with  such  lavish  and  magnificent 
festivities." 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  then  with  trem 
bling  fingers  turned  back  to  the  title-page. 
The  book  was  printed  twenty-eight  years  ago, 
the  year  before  Amos  was  born. 

For  a  long  time  they  sat  on  the  floor  talk 
ing;  she  asking  many  questions  and  he  an 
swering,  until  the  listening  objects  in  the  attic 
began  to  lose  their  outline  and  become  a  part 
of  the  gloom.  The  sunlight  along  the  rafters 
dwindled  to  a  narrow  strip,  then  disappeared; 
and  the  voices  of  the  haymakers  were  long 
since  gone  when  Amos  and  Molly  finally 
climbed  to  their  feet  and  descended  the 
stairs. 


[210] 


IX 

SEPTEMBER  brought  other  guests,  and 
with  their  arrival  Amos  Judd  and  Molly 
Cabot  found  the  easy,  irresponsible  routine  of 
their  happy  summer  again  disturbed.  To  his 
own  fierce  regret  Amos  could  invent  no  decent 
pretext  for  escaping  a  visit  he  had  promised 
early  in  the  summer,  and  a  more  unwilling 
victim  never  resigned  himself  to  a  week  of 
pleasure.  To  the  girl  he  was  to  leave  behind 
him,  he  bewailed  the  unreasonable  cruelty  of 
his  friends.  "This  leaving  you,  Soul  of  my 
Soul,  is  worse  than  death.  I  shall  not  eat  while 
I  am  gone,  and  nights  I  shall  sit  up  and  curse." 
But  at  the  end  of  a  week  he  returned, 
promptly  on  the  minute.  His  moments  of  de 
pression,  however,  seemed  rather  to  increase 
than  diminish,  and,  although  carefully  re 
pressed,  were  visible  to  a  pair  of  watchful 
eyes.  Upon  his  face  wThen  in  repose  there  had 
[211  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

always  been  a  melancholy  look,,  which  now 
seemed  deepening  as  from  an  inward  sorrow, 
too  strong  to  conquer.  This  was  betrayed  oc 
casionally  by  a  careless  speech,  but  to  her 
questioning  he  always  returned  a  cheerful  an 
swer.  In  spite  of  these  heroic  efforts  to  main 
tain  a  joyful  front,  Molly  was  not  deceived, 
and  it  was  evident,  even  to  Mr.  Cabot,  that  the 
young  man  was  either  ill  in  body  or  the  victim 
of  a  mental  disturbance  that  might  be  disas 
trous  in  its  results.  Of  this  he  was  destined  to 
have  a  closer  knowledge  than  his  daughter.  It 
came  about  one  Sunday  morning,  when  the 
two  men  had  climbed  a  neighboring  hill  for  a 
view  which  Mr.  Cabot  had  postponed  from 
week  to  week  since  early  June.  This  was  his 
last  Sunday  in  Daleford  and  his  final  oppor 
tunity. 

The  view  was  well  worth  the  climb.   The 
day  itself,   such   a  day  as   comes   oftenest  in 
September,  when  the  clear  air  is  tempered  to 
[  212  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

the  exact  degree  for  human  comfort  by  the 
rays  of  a  summer  sun,  was  one  in  which  the 
most  indifferent  view  could  shine  without  an 
effort.  Below  them,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  lay 
the  village  of  Daleford  with  its  single  street. 
Except  the  white  spires  of  the  churches,  little 
of  it  could  be  seen,  however,  beneath  the  four 
rows  of  overhanging  elms.  Off  to  their  left, 
a  mile  or  two  away,  the  broad  Connecticut, 
through  its  valley  of  elms,  flowed  serenely  to 
the  sea;  and  beyond,  the  changing  hills  took 
on  eveiy  color  from  the  deepest  purple  to  a 
golden  yellow.  A  green  valley  on  their  right 
\vaiidered  off  among  the  wroods  and  hills,  and 
in  it  the  stately  avenue  of  maples  they  both 
knew  so  well.  A  silence  so  absolute  and  so  far- 
reaching  rested  upon  the  scene  that,  after  a 
word  or  two  of  praise,  the  two  men,  from  a 
common  impulse,  remained  without  speaking. 
As  thus  they  sat  under  the  gentle  influence  of 
a  spell  which  neither  cared  to  break,  the  notes 
[  213  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

of  an  organ  came  floating  upward  from  the 
trees  below  them,  and  mingled  with  the  voices 
of  a  choir.  Mr.  Cabot's  thoughts  turned  at  once 
to  the  friend  at  his  side,  whom  he  felt  must 
experience  a  yet  deeper  impression  from  these 
familiar  scenes  of  his  childhood.  Turning  to 
express  this  thought,  he  was  so  struck  by  the 
look  upon  Amos' s  face,,  an  expression  of  such 
despairing  melancholy,,  that  he  stopped  in  the 
middle  of  his  sentence.  While  well  aware  that 
these  tragic  eyes  were  always  most  pathetic 
objects  in  repose,  he  had  never  seen  upon  a 
human  face  a  clearer  token  of  a  hopeless 
grief. 

"What  is  it,  my  boy?"  he  asked,  laying  a 
hand  upon  the  knee  beside  him.  "Tell  me.  I 
may  be  able  to  help  you." 

There  was  a  slight  hesitation  and  a  long 
breath  before  the  answer  came.  "I  am  ashamed 
to  tell  you,  Mr.  Cabot.  I  value  your  good  opin 
ion  so  very  much  that  it  comes  hard  to  let  you 


AMOS     J  U  D  D 

know  what  a  weak  and  cowardly  thing  I  have 
been,  and  am." 

"Cowardly — that  I  do  not  believe.  You  may 
be  weak ;  all  of  us  are  that ;  in  fact,  it  seems  to 
be  the  distinguishing  attribute  of  the  human 
family.  But  out  with  it,  whatever  it  is.  You  can 
trust  me." 

"Oh,  I  know  that,  sir!  If  you  were  only  less 
of  a  man  and  more  like  myself,  it  would  be 
easier  to  do  it.  But  I  will  tell  you  the  whole 
story.  By  the  fourth  of  November  I  shall  not 
be  alive,  and  I  have  known  it  for  a  year." 

Mr.  Cabot  turned  in  surprise.  "Why  do  you 
think  that?" 

But  Amos  went  on  without  heeding  the 
question. 

"I  knew  it  when  I  asked  Molly  to  be  my 
wife;  and  all  the  time  that  she  has  gone  on 
loving  me  more  and  more,  I  have  known  it, 
and  done  all  I  could  to  make  things  worse. 
And  now,  as  the  time  approaches  and  I  realize 
[215  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

that  in  a  few  weeks  she  will  be  a  broken 
hearted  woman  —  for  I  have  learned  what  her 
affection  is  and  how  much  I  am  to  her  —  now  I 
begin  to  see  what  I  have  done,  God  knows  it 
is  hard  enough  to  die  and  leave  her,  but  to  die 
only  to  have  played  a  practical  joke  on  the  girl 
for  whom  I  would  joyfully  give  a  thousand  lives 
if  I  had  them,,  is  too  much." 

He  arose,  and  standing  before  her  father, 
made  a  slight  gesture  as  of  surrender  and  resig 
nation.  The  older  man  looked  away  toward  the 
distant  river,  but  said  nothing. 

"Listen,  sir,  and  try  to  believe  me."  Mr. 
Cabot  raised  his  glance  to  the  dark  face  and 
saw  truth  and  an  open  heart  in  the  eyes  fixed 
solemnly  upon  his  own;  and  he  recognized  a 
being  transformed  by  a  passion  immeasurably 
stronger  than  himself. 

"When  I  found  she  loved  me  I  could  think 
of  nothing  else.  Why  should  I  not  be  happy 
for  the  short  time  I  had  to  live?  Her  love  was 
[216] 


AMOS     JUDD 

more  to  me  than  any  earthly  thing,  than  any 
possible  hereafter.  Better  one  summer  with  her 
than  to  live  forever  and  not  have  known  her. 
Oh!  I  thought  of  her  side  of  it,  often  and 
often ;  many  a  night  I  have  done  nothing  else, 
but  I  could  no  more  give  her  up  than  I  could 
lift  this  hill."  He  paused,  drew  a  long  breath, 
as  if  at  the  hopelessness  of  words  to  convey  his 
meaning,  then  added,  very  calmly: 

"Now  I  am  soberer,  as  the  end  approaches, 
and  I  love  her  more  than  ever:  but  I  will 
do  whatever  you  say;  anything  that  will  make 
her  happier.  No  sacrifice  can  be  too  great,  and 
I  promise  you  I  will  make  it.  I  have  often 
wished  the  bull  had  killed  me  that  day,  then  I 
should  have  her  love  and  respect  forever;  and 
yours  too,  perhaps." 

"You  have  both  now,  Amos.  But  tell  me 
why  you  think  you  are  to  die  by  November 
fourth?" 

Amos  resumed  his  seat  upon  the  rock  and 
[217  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

answered:  "Because  I  have  seen  myself  lying 
dead  on  that  day." 

"I  have  sometimes  wondered/'  said  Mr. 
Cabot,  "if  that  temptation  would  not  prove  too 
strong  for  you." 

"No,  sir,  it  was  not  too  strong  for  me  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  but  it  happened  when 
I  was  not  myself,  when  I  came  out  of  that  fever 
last  October,  and  as  I  lay  in  bed,  weak  and 
half-conscious,  I  felt  sure  my  day  had  come.  I 
thought  the  doctor  was  not  telling  me  the 
truth,  so,  by  looking  ahead  for  myself,  I  learned 
more  than  I  cared  to  know,  and  saw  myself 
lying  on  a  sofa  in  a  strange  room,  a  place  I  had 
never  been  into;  a  public  building,  I  should 
think." 

<e But  why  do  you  think  it  is  to  be  the  fourth 
of  November,  and  this  year?" 

"Because  I  looked  about  and  saw  near  a 
window  a  little  day  calendar,  and  that  was  the 
date  it  bore.  Then  on  a  table  lay  a  daily  paper 
[  218  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

of  the  day  before,  and  two  magazines  of  the 
same  month,  all  of  this  year." 

"But  is  it  not  possible  the  room  is  unoccu 
pied  and  that  these  things  have  been  lying 
there  indefinitely?" 

Amos  shook  his  head.  "No,  sir,  it  is  a  room 
that  is  lived  in.  There  are  other  papers  lying 
about:  books,  and  a  letter  on  the  desk  waiting 
to  be  mailed.  And  in  the  fireplace  the  embers 
are  still  glowing." 

Mr.  Cabot  looked  with  the  profoundest  sym 
pathy  toward  his  friend,  who  was  scaling  bits 
of  moss  from  the  rock  beside  him ;  then  he 
turned  again  to  the  view  and  its  tranquil 
beauty  seemed  a  mockery.  In  the  village  be 
low  them  he  could  see  the  congregation  pour 
ing  out  from  a  little  white  church  like  ants 
from  a  loaf  of  sugar.  Mr.  Cabot  was  not  a  re 
ligious  man,  and  at  present  there  was  nothing 
in  his  heart  that  could  be  mistaken  for  resig 
nation.  His  spirit  was  in  revolt,  his  pugnacity 


AMOS     JUDD 

aroused,  and  with  this  quality  he  was  freely 
endowed.  Rising  to  his  feet  he  stood  for  a 
moment  in  silence,  with  folded  arms,  frowning 
upon  the  distant  hills. 

"Amos,"  he  said,  finally,  "in  spite  of  bygone 
defeats  I  am  inclined  to  resist  this  prophecy  of 
yours.  You  were  not  absolutely  master  of  your 
own  mind  at  the  time,  and  under  such  condi 
tions  nothing  would  be  easier  than  to  confuse 
your  own  imagining  with  a  vision  of  another 
character.  At  least  it  is  not  impossible,  and  if 
by  good  luck  you  did  happen  to  confound  one 
with  the  other  we  are  having  our  panic  for 
nothing.  Moreover,  even  if  this  vision  is  cor 
rect,  it  need  not  necessarily  signify  an  unde- 
viating  fulfilment  in  every  detail.  It  may  indi 
cate  the  result  to  be  expected  in  the  natural 
order  of  events;  that  is,  if  things  are  allowed 
to  take  their  course  without  obstruction  or  in 
tervening  influences.  But  it  is  difficult  for  me 
to  believe  this  faculty  is  to  continue  infallible 
[  220  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

through  all  your  mental  and  physical  develop 
ments  and  fluctuations  of  faith,  and  never, 
under  any  possible  conditions,  vary  a  hair's- 
breadth  from  the  truth.  It  is  a  law  of  nature 
that  a  disused  faculty  shall  weaken  and  lose 
its  power,  and  for  years  you  have  done  your 
best  to  repress  and  forget  it." 

"Yes,  sir,  but  whenever  employed  it  has 
been  correct." 

"That  may  be,  and  its  day  of  failure  still 
remain  a  probability.  In  this  present  case  the 
prophecy,  aside  from  its  uncertain  origin,  is 
one  whose  fulfilment  is  more  easy  to  avert  than 
some  of  the  others.  You  say  the  room  in  which 
you  saw  yourself  is  one  you  are  unfamiliar  with, 
and  consequently  is  not  in  Daleford." 

"Oh,  no!  There  is  nothing  like  it  in  this 
vicinity." 

"Well,  suppose  you  were  to  remain  in  Dale- 
ford  during  the  critical  period  with  two  men, 
nominally  visitors  at  your  house,  to  watch  you 
[  221  1 


AMOS     J  U  D  D 

day  and  night  and  see  that  you  do  not  escape? 
Or,  better  still,  let  me  send  you  to  an  institu 
tion  in  which  I  am  a  director,  where  you  will 
be  confined  as  a  dangerous  patient,  and  where 
escape,  even  if  you  attempted  it,  would  be  as 
hopeless  as  from  a  prison." 

Amos  doubted  the  success  of  any  attempt  at 
foiling  fate,  or,  in  other  words,  giving  the  lie 
to  a  revelation  once  received,  but  he  was  will 
ing  to  do  whatever  his  friend  desired.  As  they 
walked  home  they  discussed  the  plan  in  detail 
and  decided  to  act  upon  it;  also  to  take  every 
precaution  that  Molly  should  be  kept  in  igno 
rance. 

The  first  week  in  October  the  house  at  the 
north  end  of  the  avenue  was  empty  and  the 
Cabots  were  in  New  York.  As  the  end  of  the 
month  approached  a  little  tale  was  invented 
to  explain  the  cessation  for  a  time  of  Amos' s 
visits,  and  early  one  afternoon  the  two  men 
got  into  a  cab  and  were  driven  to  the  out- 
[  222  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

skirts  of  the  city.  They  entered  the  grounds 
of  a  well-known  institution,  were  received  by 
the  superintendent  and  one  or  two  other  offi 
cials,  then,  at  the  request  of  the  elder  visitor, 
were  shown  over  the  entire  building  and  into 
every  room  of  any  size  or  importance.  When 
this  inspection  was  over  Mr.  Cabot  took  his 
companion  aside  and  asked  if  he  had  seen 
the  room  they  sought.  Amos  shook  his  head 
and  replied  that  no  such  room  could  be  within 
the  grounds.  A  few  minutes  later  the  young 
man  was  shown  to  a  chamber  where  his  trunk 
had  preceded  him.  The  two  friends  were  alone 
for  a  moment,  and  as  they  separated  Amos 
gave  the  hand  in  his  own  a  final  pressure, 
saying:  "Don't  think  I  am  weakening,  Mr. 
Cabot,  but  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  I  have 
seen  Molly  for  the  last  time.  And  if  you  and 
I  never  meet  again,  you  may  be  sure  my  last 
thoughts  were  with  you  both." 

In  a  cheerful  tone  the  lawyer  answered:  "I 
f  223  1 


AMOS    JUDD 

shall  listen  to  no  such  sentiments.  If  your 
prophecy  is  correct  you  are  to  be  lying  in  a 
room  outside  these  grounds  on  November 
fourth.  No  such  prophecy  can  be  carried  out. 
And  if  the  prophecy  is  incorrect  we  shall  meet 
for  several  years  yet.  So  good-by,  my  boy.  I 
shall  be  here  the  third." 

During  ten  days  Amos  was  to  remain  under 
the  strictest  watch,  to  be  guarded  by  two  men 
at  night  and  by  two  others  in  the  day-time, 
and  to  be  permitted  under  no  conditions  to 
leave  that  wing  of  the  building.  By  the  subor 
dinate  in  charge  and  by  the  four  guardians  he 
was  believed  to  be  the  victim  of  a  suicidal 
mania.  As  the  fourth  of  November  approached 
Mr.  Cabot's  thoughts  were  less  upon  his  busi 
ness  than  with  his  imprisoned  friend.  He 
remembered  with  what  inexorable  force  he 
himself  had  been  held  to  the  fulfilment  of  a 
prediction.  He  had  felt  the  hand  of  an  un 
swerving  fate;  and  he  had  not  forgotten. 
[  224  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

But  the  fourth  of  November  came  and  went 
with  110  serious  results,  and  when  the  five  suc 
ceeding  days  had  safely  passed  he  experienced 
a  relief  which  he  was  very  careful  to  conceal. 
With  friendly  hypocrisy  he  assumed  a  perfect 
confidence  in  the  result  of  their  course,,  and  he 
was  glad  to  see  that  Amos  himself  began  to 
realize  that  anything  like  a  literal  fulfilment  of 
his  vision  was  now  improbable. 

One  week  later,  the  last  day  of  durance,  the 
prisoner  and  Mr.  Cabot  had  an  interview  with 
Dr.  Chapin  in  the  latter's  private  office.  Dr. 
Chapin,  the  physician  in  charge,  an  expert  of 
distinction  in  mental  disorders,  was  a  man 
about  sixty  years  of  age,  short,  slight,  and  pale, 
with  small  eyes,  a  very  large  nose,  and  a  nar 
row,  clean-shaven  face.  His  physical  peculiari 
ties  were  emphasized  by  a  complete  indiffer 
ence  as  to  the  shape  or  quality  of  his  raiment; 
his  coat  was  a  consummate  misfit,  and  his 
trousers  were  baggy  at  the  knees.  Even  the 
[  225  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

spectacles,  which  also  fitted  badly,  were  never 
parallel  with  his  eyes  and  constantly  required 
an  upward  shove  along  his  nose.  But  a  profes 
sional  intercourse  with  this  gentleman  led  to  a 
conviction  that  his  mental  outfit  bore  no  rela 
tion  to  his  apparel.  Mr.  Cabot  had  known  him 
for  years,  and  Amos  felt  at  once  that  he  was  in 
the  presence  of  a  man  of  unusual  insight.  Dr. 
Chapin  spoke  calmly  and  without  pretension, 
but  as  one  careful  of  his  speech  and  who  knew 
his  facts. 

"That  you  should  have  made  that  visit 
against  your  will,"  he  said  to  Mr.  Cabot  in  an 
swering  a  question,  "is  not  difficult  to  explain  as 
Mr.  Judd  unconsciously  brought  to  bear  upon 
your  movements  a  force  to  which  he  himself 
has  repeatedly  yielded.  If  he  happens  to  re 
member,  I  think  he  will  find  that  his  thoughts 
were  with  you  at  that  time,"  and  he  smiled 
pleasantly  on  Amos. 

"Yes,  sir,  but  only  as  a  matter  of  interest  in 
[  226  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

the  novel  experience  I  knew  Mr.  Cabot  was 
going  through." 

"Certainly,  but  if  you  had  forgotten  the 
visit  and  if  you  believed  at  that  moment  that 
he  was  to  go  in  another  direction,  Mr.  Cabot 
would  have  followed  the  other  thought  with 
equal  obedience.  This  unconscious  control  of 
one  intelligence  over  another  is  well  established 
and  within  certain  limits  can  be  explained,  but 
in  these  affairs  science  is  compelled  to  accept 
a  barrier  beyond  which  we  can  only  speculate. 
In  this  case  the  unusual  and  the  most  interest 
ing  feature  is  the  unvarying  accuracy  of  your 
visions.  You  have  inherited  something  from 
your  Eastern  ancestors  to  which  a  hypothesis 
can  be  adjusted,  but  which  is  in  fact  beyond  a 
scientific  explanation.  I  should  not  be  at  all 
surprised  to  find  somewhere  in  the  city  the 
room  in  which  you  saw  yourself  lying;  and  it 
is  more  than  probable  that,  if  unrestrained, 
you  would  have  discovered  it  and  fulfilled  your 


AMOS     JUDD 

prophecy,  unconsciously  obedient  to  that  irre 
sistible  force.  A  blow,,  a  fall,  a  stroke  of  apo 
plexy  or  heart  disease;  the  sudden  yielding  of 
your  weakest  part  under  a  nervous  pressure, 
could  easily  bring  about  the  completion  of 
your  picture.  Some  of  the  authenticated  re 
ports  of  corresponding  cases  are  almost  in 
credible.  But  before  you  are  forty,  Mr.  Judd, 
you  will  find  in  these  visions  a  gradual  diminu 
tion  of  accuracy  and  also,  as  in  this  case,  that 
their  fulfilment  is  by  no  means  imperative." 

For  Amos  there  was  immense  relief  in  hear 
ing  this,  especially  from  such  a  source,  and  he 
left  the  building  with  a  lighter  heart  than  he 
had  known  for  months.  Now  that  the  danger 
was  over,  he  wished  the  wedding  to  take  place 
at  once,  but  Molly  would  consent  to  no  undig 
nified  haste.  He  found,  however,  an  unexpected 
and  influential  ally  in  her  grandmother  Jouve- 
nal,  just  arrived  from  her  home  in  Maryland 
for  a  month's  visit,  and  who  insisted  upon  the 
[  228  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

wedding  taking  place  while  she  was  with  them. 
Mrs.  Jouvenal  was  a  slender  person  of  sprightly 
manners,  whose  long  life  had  been  sweetly 
tempered  by  an  exaggerated  estimate  of  the 
importance  of  her  own  family;  but  in  other 
matters  she  was  reasonable  and  clear-headed, 
endowed  with  quick  perceptions,  a  ready  wit, 
and  one  of  those  youthful  spirits  that  never 
grow  old.  She  was  interested  in  all  that  went 
on  about  her,  was  never  bored  and  never  dull. 
It  was  of  course  a  little  disappointing  that  a 
girl  with  such  an  ancestry  as  Molly's,  on  her 
mother's  side,  should  give  herself  to  an  un 
known  Judd  from  an  obscure  New  England 
village;  but  her  fondness  for  Amos  soon  con 
soled  her  for  the  mesalliance.  Molly  had  a 
strong  desire  to  acquaint  her  grandmother 
with  the  ancestral  facts  of  the  case,  but  Amos 
refused  to  give  his  consent.  Those  discoveries 
in  the  attic  he  insisted  they  must  keep  to 
themselves,  at  least  while  he  was  alive.  "  When 
[  229  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

I  am  transplanted  I  shall  be  beyond  the  reach 
of  terrestrial  snobs,  and  you  can  do  as  you 
please." 

The  first  week  in  December  Mrs.  Jouvenal 
was  to  visit  her  son  in  Boston.  "And  really., 
my  child/'  she  said  to  Molly,  "it  is  the  last 
wedding  in  the  family  I  shall  be  alive  to  see, 
and  with  such  an  exotic  specimen  as  you  have 
selected,  I  shall  not  be  sure  of  a  Christian 
ceremony  unless  I  see  it  myself." 

As  her  father  remained  neutral  Molly  finally 
yielded,  and  there  was  a  wedding  the  first 
Wednesday  in  December. 


[  230  ] 


X 

O    I    look    tired    and    dragged    out?" 
asked   the   bride   of  an  hour  as   they 
drove  to  the  train. 

"You  look  a  little  tired,  a  little  flushed,  a 
little  ashamed,  and  tremendously  interesting. 
But  you  may  hold  my  hand." 

"I  am  ashamed,"  and  she  pushed  the  up 
turned  hand  from  her  lap  and  looked  out  the 
window. 

"But,  Light  of  my  Soul,  you  give  us  away 
by  those  imbecile  blushes.  You  might  just  as 
well  thrust  your  head  out  of  the  carriage  and 
cry,  ' Behold  the  bride  and  groom!'" 

She  smiled  and  leaned  back,  but  still  looked 
out.  "That's  the  horrid  feature  of  a  honey 
moon.  Everybody  knows  it  and  everybody 
looks  at  you.  Is  it  too  late  to  go  back  and 
undo  it?" 

"What  a  bloodcurdling  thought!" 
[  231   ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

"And  it  should  n't  rain  on  our  wedding-day, 
little  Amos." 

"Of  course  it  rains.  These  are  the  tears  of 
countless  lovers  who  lived  before  the  days  of 
Molly  Cabot." 

But  they  left  the  rain  behind  them,  and 
farther  South,  away  down  in  Carolina,  they 
found  plenty  of  sunshine,  with  green  grass 
and  flowers  and  piny  woods. 

One  of  their  first  diversions  on  reaching  this 
southern  country  was  to  go  out  with  a  driver 
and  a  pair  of  horses,  but  the  harvest  of  plea 
sure  was  insufficient.  "The  conversation  of  a 
honeymoon,"  observed  the  bridegroom,  "is  too 
exalted  for  other  ears.  If  we  talk  as  the  spirit 
moves  us,  the  coachman,  unless  in  love  him 
self,  may  collapse  from  nausea:  so  let  us  be 
merciful  and  drive  ourselves." 

Thereupon  he  secured  a  buggy  with  an  old 
gray  horse,  and  from  this  combination  their 
felicity  was  much  increased.  The  old  horse 
[  232  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

they  called  Browser,  because  of  the  only  thing 
he  would  do  without  being  urged;  and  it  re 
quired  but  a  single  drive  to  develop  his  good 
points,  which  happened  to  be  the  very  quali 
ties  required.  He  was  dreamy,  inattentive, 
never  hasty,  and  not  easily  disgusted.  His  in 
fluence  was  distinctly  restful,  and  his  capacity 
for  ignoring  a  foolish  conversation  phenomenal. 
It  was  decided  by  his  present  associates  that 
these  virtues  were  either  hereditary,  or  had 
been  developed  to  the  highest  perfection  by 
a  long  and  tender  experience. 

"It's  my  opinion,"  remarked  the  groom, 
"that  being  so  extensively  used  as  a  nuptial 
horse  has  resulted  in  his  regarding  honeymoon 
foolishness  as  the  usual  form  of  conversation. 
He  probably  thinks  they  talk  that  way  in  the 
courts  and  on  the  Stock  Exchange." 

But  accustomed  as  Browser  was  to  cloying 
repetitions,  there  were  times  when  his  endur 
ance  was  sorely  tried.  On  one  occasion  the 
[  233  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

bride  alighted  from  the  buggy,  and  going  a 
little  ahead,  gathered  wild  flowers  by  the  road 
side;  and  as  she  returned,  Amos,  who  was  giv 
ing  Browser  a  handful  of  grass,  raised  his  hat 
in  a  ceremonious  manner  and  advanced  toward 
her  with  extended  hand,  exclaiming: 

"Why,  Miss  Cabot!  How  do  you  do?  I  had 
no  idea  you  were  here.  My  name  is  Judd." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  replied,  dra wing- 
stiffly  back,  "your  name  is  not  Judd,  and  you 
don't  know  what  it  is.  I  can  never  marry  a 
man  who  — 

"Wait  till  you  are  asked,"  he  interrupted, 
then  threw  both  arms  about  her,  and  so  they 
stood  for  a  moment,  she  making  no  effort  to 
escape. 

Browser  blushed  and  turned  away. 

In  secluded  corners  of  the  vast  and  ramify 
ing  hotel  piazza  they  spent  long  evenings  and 
watched  the  moon,  the  other  people,  and  the 
distant  ocean,  and  talked,  and  talked,  and 
[234] 


AMOS     JUDD 

talked.  Of  this  talk  no  serious  pen  could  write. 
The  very  ink  would  laugh  or  turn  to  sugar  and 
run  away  in  shame.  And  when  these  conver 
sations  were  finished,  two  well-dressed  and 
seemingly  intelligent  people  would  arise,  and 
with  brazen  faces  enter  the  grand  rotunda  of 
the  hotel,  where  other  guests  would  see  them 
enter  the  elevator,  float  heavenward  and  dis 
appear  from  human  eyes.  But  the  vexatious 
color  still  came  and  went  in  Molly's  face,  and 
seemed  ever  ready  to  give  the  lie  to  the  gen 
tle  dignity  and  composure  which  rarely  de 
serted  her.  Strolling  through  the  gardens  of 
the  hotel  one  afternoon,  they  met  a  stately 
matron  with  her  two  daughters,  whom  Molly 
knew,  and  as  they  separated  after  the  usual 
conversation,  Amos  jeered  at  the  bride,  saying: 
"Really,  old  Girl,  it  is  mortifying  the  way  you 
blush  upon  this  trip.  I  don't  blame  the  blushes 
for  selecting  such  a  face,  but  you  only  give 
yourself  away.  It  is  merely  another  manner  of 
[  235  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

saying  fl  know  I  am  guilty,  and  just  see  how 
ashamed  I  am!'" 

"Oh,  don't  talk  about  it!  It's  hideous,  but  I 
can't  help  it.  Are  all  brides  such  fools?" 

"I  don't  know,  I  never  travelled  with  one 
before,  but  I  shall  leave  you  behind  if  you  keep 
it  up.  Try  and  think  you  have  been  married 
for  twenty  years.  Do  you  suppose  the  daisies 
giggle  and  the  sun  winks  at  the  other  planets 
every  time  we  look  out  the  window  ?  Or  that  it 
is  because  Molly  and  Amos  are  spliced  that 
the  carnations  blush  and  the  violets  hide  their 
faces?  But  I  will  say  this  for  you,  Spirit  of 
Old-fashioned  Roses,  that  all  this  blushing 
and  unblushing  is  tremendously  becoming." 

"Thank  you;  but  I  must  paint  or  wear  a 
veil,  or  only  come  out  at  night.  There  is  no 
other  way." 

The  days  went  by,  all  much  alike,  in  the 
sunny  atmosphere  of  an  overwhelming  content. 
In  the  woods  they  found  a  distant  spot  which 
[  236  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

laid  no  claim  to  publicity,  and  here  upon  the 
pine  carpet  with  the  drowsy  rustling  of  the 
leaves  above,  they  passed  many  hours  in  a  se 
rene  indifference  to  the  flight  of  time.  Some 
times  they  brought  a  book,  not  a  page  of  which 
was  ever  read,  but  no  deceit  was  necessary,  as 
the  onJy  witnesses  were  occasional  birds  and 
squirrels  whose  ideas  of  decorum  were  primi 
tive  and  none  too  strict.  One  bird,  who  seemed 
to  wear  a  dress-suit  with  an  orange  shirt-front, 
considered  his  household  in  danger  and  ac 
quired  an  insolent  habit  of  perching  himself 
upon  a  bough  within  a  dozen  feet,  and  doing 
his  best  to  scare  them  off.  But  as  they  reap 
peared  day  after  day  and  respected  his  rights 
his  anger  gradually  diminished,  until  at  last 
he  varied  his  vituperations  by  a  peculiar  song, 
both  joyous  and  triumphant,  which  amused  the 
interlopers. 

"1  should  like  to  know  what  his  little  feel 
ings  really  are,"  said  the  bride,  as  with  a  pine- 
[  237  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

needle  she  annoyed  the  sensitive  portions  of 
the  head  reposing  in  her  lap.  The  upturned 
eyes  lingered  for  a  moment  upon  the  patch  of 
blue  between  the  pine-tops,  then  with  a  look 
of  mild  surprise  turned  lazily  to  her  own. 

"Do  you  really  mean  to  confess,  Gentle 
Roses,  that  you  don't  know  what  he  says?" 

As  this  speech  was  uttered  the  instrument 
of  torture  was  cleverly  inserted  between  the 
parted  lips.  "No;  and  perhaps  I  don't  care  to." 

"But  listen.  There!  Don't  you  get  it?  He 
knows  we  are  on  a  honeymoon  and  keeps  re 
peating,  in  that  victorious  way: 

"Amos  has  got  her! 
Amos  has  got  her!" 

The  bride  laughed;  her  face  bent  over  to 
the  one  beneath,  but  the  bird  upon  the  bough 
was  not  disgusted.  He  stood  his  ground  and 
sang  his  song  as  if  Love  and  Folly  were  things 
to  be  respected. 

[  238  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

When  the  day  of  departure  came  they  turned 
their  backs  with  sorrow  upon  a  resting-place 
whose  cosey  corners  they  knew  so  well  and 
whose  groves  no  grateful  lovers  could  forget. 
These  tender  memories  were  a  soothing  recom 
pense  for  descending  to  an  earthly  life.  As  the 
train  moved  away  she  whispered,  "Good-by, 
honeymoon!" 

" Don't  say  that!"  exclaimed  Amos.  "Let  us 
hold  on  to  it  forever.  I  shall  die  a  lover  and  I 
expect  the  same  of  you." 

The  promise  to  Grandmother  Jouvenal  was 
not  forgotten,  and  when  they  left  the  train  at 
a  little  station  in  Maryland  a  carriage  was 
awaiting  them.  As  they  entered  the  avenue 
and  came  in  sight  of  the  old  house,  Molly  re 
garded  her  companion  with  eager  eyes  to  be 
sure  that  he  was  properly  impressed. 

"It's  fine!"  he  exclaimed.  "An  ideal  man 
sion  of  the  period.  And  you  say  it  is  over  two 
hundred  years  old?" 

[  239  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

"Yes,  the  main  house  is,  but  just  wait  till 
you  see  the  inside!  It's  crammed  full  of  colo 
nial  furniture  and  family  portraits." 

"What  on  earth  is  the  circular  part  at  the 
end  of  that  wing?  Is  it  a  circus  or  only  a  gym 
nasium  for  your  grandmother?" 

Molly  laughed.  "That's  the  library.  Grand 
pa's  father  was  an  astronomer  and  started  to 
build  an  observatory,  but  died  when  it  was 
half-way  up;  so  grandpa,  who  was  not  an  as 
tronomer,  finished  it  as  a  library.  But  it  makes 
a  beautiful  room." 

From  her  grandmother  they  received  a  cor 
dial  welcome.  It  was  dark  when  they  arrived, 
and  as  Mrs.  Jou venal  had  accepted  for  them 
an  invitation  to  a  dance  that  evening  at  the 
house  of  a  neighbor,  whose  daughters  were  old 
playmates  of  Molly's,  there  was  little  time  for 
seeing  the  house.  But  Molly  did  not  like  to 
wait  and  proposed  a  hasty  tour,  wishing  to 
show  Amos  at  once  the  old  portraits  and  fur- 
[  240  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

niturc  and  the  treasures  of  family  silver.  To 
this  her  grandmother  objected.  "Do  wait  till 
to-morrow,  child.  Your  Amos  can  sleep  with 
out  it,  and  besides  the  rooms  are  not  in  order 
yet.  Remember  I  only  came  back  myself  this 
morning,  after  a  two  months'  absence." 

And  so  that  pleasure  was  delayed.  They 
arrived  early  at  the  ball,  and  as  she  joined 
him  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  he  glanced  at 
the  jewels  in  her  hair  and  asked,  after  a  mo 
ment's  hesitation,  if  she  would  do  him  a  little 
favor. 

"Of  course  I  will.  Only  name  it,  dusky 
Rajah,"  and  looking  up  at  him  with  admiring 
eyes  she  smiled  as  she  remembered  for  the 
hundredth  time  how  seriously  he  wras  annoyed 
by  any  compliment  upon  his  appearance. 

"Are  you  very  much  attached  to  that  cres 
cent  in  your  hair?" 

"If  I  were  it  should  make  no  difference. 
You  don't  like  it,  and  that 's  enough,"  and  she 
[241  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

raised  her  hand  to  remove  the  ornament.  But 
he  interrupted  the  motion.  "Don't  take  it  off 
now,  for  you  have  nothing  to  replace  it;  but 
that  is  the  smallest  part  of  the  request.  The 
real  favor  is  that  you  shall  not  ask  me  why  I 
do  it." 

"That  is  asking  a  good  deal,  but  I  consent. 
And  now  tell  me,  how  do  I  look?  There  is  a 
wretched  light  in  there." 

"You  look  like  what  you  are,  the  joy  of 
to-day  and  the  rainbow  of  a  happy  morrow." 

"No,  be  serious.  Is  my  hair  in  every  direc 
tion?" 

He  regarded  her  gravely  and  with  care. 
"Your  hair  is  just  right,  and  for  general  effect 
you  are  far  and  away  the  prettiest,  the  dain 
tiest,  the  most  highbred-looking  girl  within  a 
thousand  miles  of  this  or  of  any  other  spot; 
and  if  we  were  alone  and  unobserved,  I  should 
gather  you  in  as  — "  Voices  close  at  hand 
caused  them  to  turn  and  descend  the  stairs 
[  242  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

with  the  solemnity  of  an  ancient  couple  who 
find  dignity  a  restful  substitute  for  the  frivoli 
ties  of  youth.  Once  in  the  ball-room,  with  the 
wild  Hungarian  music  at  their  heels,  there  was 
little  repose  for  two  such  dancers.  When  the 
first  notes  of  the  waltz  that  Molly  loved  above 
all  others,  came  floating  through  the  hall, 
Amos  cut  in  before  a  youth  who  was  hastening 
toward  the  bride  and  swung  her  out  across  the 
floor.  As  they  glided  away  with  the  music  that 
was  stirring  in  her  heart  old  memories  of  what 
seemed  a  previous  existence,  she  heard  at  her 
ear  "Do  you  remember  when  first  we  waltzed? 
How  you  did  snub  me!  But  life  began  that 
night." 

Instead  of  returning  at  eleven  o'clock,  they 
returned  at  two  in  the  morning.  By  Amos' s 
request  it  had  been  arranged  that  no  servant 
should  sit  up  for  them,  but  when  they  entered 
the  hall  and  found  it  dark  Molly  expressed 
surprise  that  not  a  single  light  should  have 
[243  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

been  left  burning.  They  easily  found  the 
matches,  however,  and  lighted  a  candle.  Amos 
had  just  learned  from  the  coachman  that  a  let 
ter  ready  at  six  in  the  morning  would  go  by 
an  early  train,  so  Molly  showed  him  a  little 
desk  of  her  grandmother's  in  the  dining-room, 
and  then  left  him  to  his  writing.  Passing 
through  the  hall  toward  the  stairs  she  hap 
pened  to  look  into  a  sitting-room,  and  beyond 
it,  through  a  corridor,  saw  a  portion  of  the  big 
library  where  the  moonlight  fell  upon  a  marble 
bust.  She  paused,  then  returning  to  the  door 
of  the  dining-room,  asked, 

"  How  long  shall  you  be  at  that  letter,  little 
prince?" 

"Not  five  minutes." 

"Then  come  into  the  library  and  see  it  in 
the  moonlight.  You  will  find  a  girl  there  who 
is  interested  in  you." 

"All  right.  That  girl  will  not  wait  long." 

Although  familiar  with  the  old  library, 
[  244  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

Molly  was  impressed  anew  by  its  stately  pro 
portions  as  she  entered  from  the  little  corridor. 
The  spacious  room  was  now  flooded  by  the 
moonlight  that  streamed  through  the  high 
windows  at  the  farther  end  and  brought  out, 
in  ghostly  relief,  the  white  Ionic  columns 
against  the  encircling  wall.  Between  them,  in 
varying  shapes  and  sizes,  hung  the  family  por 
traits,  and  in  front  of  every  column  stood  a 
pedestal  with  its  marble  bust.  At  the  present 
moment  the  pallid  face  of  Dante  caught  the 
moonbeams,  and  seemed  to  follow  her  with 
solemn  eyes.  As  she  swept  with  a  rustle  of  silk 
along  the  huge,  round,  crimson  carpet,  she  re 
membered  how  deeply  she  had  been  impressed 
in  former  years  by  the  knowledge  that  it  was 
made  in  England  expressly  for  this  room.  The 
perfect  stillness  wras  broken  only  by  herself  as 
she  moved  out  into  the  wide  circle  of  mysteri 
ous  faces. 

At  her  right,  between  two  of  the  columns, 
[245] 


AMOS     JUDD 

in  a  lofty  mirror  that  filled  the  space  from  floor 
to  cornice,  marched  her  own  reflection.  She 
stopped,  and  regarded  it.  With  her  white  dress 
and  the  moonlight  upon  her  head  and  shoul 
ders,  it  was  a  striking  figure  and  recalled  the 
night,  a  year  ago,  when  she  stood  at  the  win 
dow  of  her  chamber,  and  tried  in  vain  to  dis 
cover  why  such  a  vision  should  have  startled 
Mr.  Amos  Judd.  Mr.  Amos  Judd!  How  she 
hated  him  that  night!  Hated  him!  the  dear, 
lovely,  old,  perfect  Amos!  She  smiled,  and 
beat  time  with  a  foot,  humming  a  fragment  of 
that  bewitching  waltz.  And  the  crescent  that 
he  had  asked  her  not  to  wear  again,  flashed 
back  at  her  from  the  mirror.  She  would  remove 
it  now,  upon  the  instant,  and  never  more,  not 
even  to-night,  should  the  dear  boy  be  troubled 
by  it.  As  her  fingers  touched  the  jewels  she 
saw  something  in  the  mirror  that  sent  the 
blood  from  her  heart,  and  caused  the  hand  to 
drop  convulsively  to  her  breast.  Behind  her, 
[  246  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

across  the  room,  in  the  shadow  of  a  pedestal, 
were  glistening  two  other  things  that  moved 
like  a  pair  of  human  eyes.  With  an  involuntary 
cry  she  wheeled  about,  and  before  she  could 
turn  again  at  a  sudden  movement  behind  her, 
an  arm  was  thrown  about  her  waist,  strong 
fingers  clutched  her  throat  and  in  her  ear  came 
a  muttered  warning:  "Be  quiet,  lady,  or  it's 
up  with  yer!" 

But  the  cry  had  reached  Amos  in  the  dis 
tant  dining-room,  and  she  heard  his  footsteps 
hurrying  across  the  hall.  The  fingers  tightened 
at  her  throat;  she  was  pushed  with  violence 
into  the  shadow  of  the  nearest  column,  and 
held  there.  Gasping,  strangling,  she  seized  in 
stinctively  with  both  hands  the  wrist  that  was 
squeezing  the  life  from  her  body,  but  her 
feeble  fingers  against  such  a  strength  were  as 
nothing.  Pressing  close  upon  her  she  saw  the 
dim  outline  of  a  cap  upon  the  back  of  a  head, 
a  big  neck,  and  a  heavy  chin.  With  bursting 


AMOS     JUDD 

throbs  the  blood  beat  through  her  head  and 
eyes,,  and  she  would  have  sunk  to  the  floor  but 
for  the  hands  that  held  her  with  an  iron  force. 

In  this  torture  of  suffocation  came  a  blur, 
but  through  it  she  saw  Amos  spring  into  the 
room,  then  stop  for  a  second  as  if  to  find  his 
bearings. 

"Moll,"  he  said,  in  a  half-whisper. 

There  was  no  answer.  Fainting,  powerless 
even  to  make  an  effort,  she  saw  the  man  be 
fore  her  raise  a  revolver  with  his  other  hand, 
and  take  deliberate  aim  at  the  broad,  white 
shirt-front,  an  easy  target  in  the  surrounding 
gloom.  In  an  agony  of  despair  she  made  a 
frenzied  effort,  struck  up  the  weapon  as  the 
shot  was  fired,  and  sent  the  bullet  high  above 
its  mark,  through  the  waistcoat  of  a  colonial 
governor. 

The  next  instant  the  fingers  were  torn  from 
her  throat,  and  as  she  sank  half-fainting  to 
her  knees,  the  two  men  in  a  savage  tussle 
[  248  ] 


AMOS     JUDD 

swayed  out  into  the  room,  then  back  with  such 
force  against  a  pedestal  that  it  tottered,  and 
writh  its  heavy  bust  came  crashing  to  the  floor. 

The  struggling  figures  also  fell.  The  burglar 
was  beneath,  and  as  he  landed,  his  weapon 
was  knocked  from  his  hand.  With  a  blow  and 
a  sudden  twist  Amos  wrenched  away,  picked 
up  the  pistol,  turned  upon  his  swiftly  rising 
foe,  and  sent  a  bullet  through  his  skull.  With 
out  a  sound  the  man  sank  back  again  to  the 
floor. 

"Are  you  hurt,  Moll?"  was  the  first  ques 
tion  as  Amos  took  a  step  toward  the  white, 
crouching  figure.  Her  bare  arm  shot  out  into 
the  moonlight  and  a  finger  pointed  across  the 
library.  "There's  another!  look  out!" 

The  second  man,  in  his  stocking  feet  like 
his  comrade,  had  crept  from  his  hiding  place, 
and  as  she  pointed  he  swung  up  his  pistol  and 
pulled  the  trigger.  But  Amos  was  quicker. 
Shots  in  rapid  succession  echoed  through  the 
[  249] 


AMOS     JUDD 

house,  two,  three,  perhaps  half  a  dozen,  she 
never  knew;  but  she  saw  to  her  joy,  that  Amos 
at  the  end  of  it  all  was  still  standing,  while 
the  burglar,  with  a  smothered  malediction, 
tumbled  heavily  into  an  easy  chair  behind  him, 
slid  out  of  it  to  his  knees,  and  pitched  forward 
on  his  face.  There  was  a  convulsive  twitching 
of  the  legs,  and  all  was  still  again.  Beneath 
him  lay  a  bag  into  which,  a  few  moments  be 
fore,  had  been  stuffed  the  ancestral  silver. 

As  she  climbed  painfully  to  her  feet,  grasp 
ing  with  tremulous  fingers  a  chair  at  her  side, 
she  saw  Amos  turn  about,  and  with  wavering 
steps,  approach  the  column  between  the  win 
dows  where,  in  the  full  light  of  the  moon, 
hung  a  little  calendar,  and  on  it 
Nov. 

4 

He  uttered  no  sound,  but  his  head  drooped 

and  he  staggered  back.  Reeling  against  a  low 

divan  he  fell  his  length  upon  it,  and  lay  with 

[250] 


AMOS     JUDD 

upturned  face,  motionless  as  the  two  men  upon 
the  floor. 

Molly  hastened  to  his  side  and  bent  over 
him  with  an  anxious  question.  In  the  full  rays 
of  the  moon  her  head  and  neck  with  the  white 
dress  were  almost  luminous  against  the  dim 
recesses  of  the  room  behind;  and  his  eyes 
rested  with  a  dazed,  half-frightened  look  on 
the  diamond  crescent,  then  fell  to  her  face, 
and  up  again  to  the  jewels  in  her  hair.  With 
an  effort  he  laid  a  hand  upon  her  shoulder  and 
answered,  with  a  feeble  smile,  "The  end  has 
come,  my  Moll." 

"No,  no.  Don't  say  that!  I'll  send  for  the 
doctor  and  have  him  here  at  once!" 

But  the  hand  restrained  her.  "It's  of  no  use. 
The  ball  went  here,  through  the  chest." 

"But,  darling,  your  life  may  depend  upon 
it!  You  don't  knowr." 

"Yes  —  I  do  know.  My  own  death,  with  you 
bending  over  me  in  the  moonlight  —  in  this 
[251  ] 


AMOS    JUDD 

room — I  saw  before  we  ever  met.  The  same 
vision  again — when  you  stood  before  me  in 
the  conservatory,  was  what — startled  me — 
that  night,  a  year  ago." 

He  spoke  with  difficulty,  in  a  failing  tone. 
There  followed  broken  words;  from  the  face 
against  his  own  tears  fell  upon  his  cheek,  and 
she  murmured,  "Take  me  with  you,  Amos." 

"No — not  that;"  then  slowly,  in  a  voice 
growing  fainter  with  each  word,  "but  there  is 
no  Heaven  without  you,  Spirit — of  Old-fash 
ioned —  Roses." 

A  gentle  pressure  from  the  fingers  that  held 
her  own,  and  in  the  moonlight  lay  a  peaceful 
face  where  a  smile  still  lingered  on  the  lips. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


